


Their White Christmas

by exeridu



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, DarkSteelShipping, F/M, Holiday Season, Holidays, Pokemon Christmas, Pokemon Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exeridu/pseuds/exeridu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was supposed to fly away to meet her boyfriend for the holidays, though the impending Sinnoh snowstorm declared otherwise. Forced to take the last express train to Snowpoint City, where her family had decided to spend for the holiday season, she expects her holiday season this year to be a disaster, until a little accident causes her to reacquaint with the charming stranger she never quite knew... [A/N: Editing and revision currently in process, 5/13 complete.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As I sat by the cold, frost-gripped window of my hotel in Twinleaf Town sipping my peppermint latte, I watched the delicate snowflakes drift gently to the snow-covered ground. The clouds in the sky above darkened into deeper shades of gray and blue as the evening grew, the dim golden lamplights of the rustic Twinleaf skyline glowing warmly against the wintry scene. Further beyond were the forests of Route 201, its leafless trees standing side by side with the tall conifers, softly and slowly blending in with the clouds as the distance became farther.

It was quite literally the most perfect, romantic Christmas evening one could have imagined. Perfect and romantic enough, indeed, to set a wonderfully miserable, sappy Christmas story. In fact, it is here where I sat by the window of this hotel room that my wonderfully miserable, sappy story began, drinking in the beautiful winter scenery. But before I carol to you about my Christmas story, let's get my introduction out of the way.

I am Cynthia, the Master Champion of the Sinnoh Region. Take a moment to let that sink in your head.

When people often hear of my name, multiple connotations are associated with who I am. For starters, I am consistently being tailed by the press, whether they are internationally reputable newspapers or big-name gossip tabloids. It doesn't help when you're at an airport trying to fly to another country, or if you're at a dock about to board a ferry to another region, or even if you're on a train to another city, and the hungry media is lusting after your image and dying to have you answer their questions. Sure, I might have some more respect for those that are reputable newspapers (since they portray me as a distinguished Master Champion with a flair for subjects in the liberal arts, including ancient history, classical music and literature; on the other hand, the tabloids are ever-so-persistent on matters such as “Will Cynthia ever marry a man?!” or “Does Cynthia finally have a boyfriend???”), but ultimately, they are all the same: I am nothing more than a massive money-maker for them. It gets even worse when I start mentioning that there's an unofficial fan-club of me – something my lawyers and I have been trying to get rid of, thus I can't quite call this war a victory of mine yet – with both fan-boys and fan-girls hailing me as their superior icon. I might as well be the leader of a religious cult, but those problems aren't as bad when I remember that there are disgusting men and women who have sexual fantasies about me. (The Internet, as I understand, is one of the most horrifying places one can visit when certain... sexual terrains are explored. I even advise myself to avoid it from time to time, lest I stumble upon into something so nasty I could barf my way to death.) You might as well give me a gun to shoot myself.

So, take all of this into account when I tell you that I have a boyfriend named Lance (yes, I, Cynthia, have a boyfriend, and yes, it is that Lance, the Master Champion of Kanto and Johto), and that I'm impatiently waiting to find if there is any available transportation left for me to visit him in Kanto.

Let me explain: I was all prepared and ready to set off to Kanto. I packed all of my necessities in a duffel bag (clothes, toiletries, spare books for reading), and over my typical black outfit (though I did opt for black jeans and heeled, knee-high leather black boots instead of the normal black pants with ankle boots), I wore my elegant, double- breasted black winter coat that fell down to my knees, a dark red scarf that wrapped around my neck (in an attempt to fit into the holiday mood), and a rather cute, felt black hat, topping my head. My shoulder bag, which I would carry with me, carried my miscellaneous possessions: my laptop, some notebooks, and other little things that I viewed as serving me useful whenever it was needed. All of my presents were wrapped and ready for gifting, including Lance's own gift, all placed in my duffel. This amount of preparation led up to one big event: the Saffron Christmas Gala.

The Saffron Christmas Gala was a major event for Lance. Every year, because he was the Master Champion of both Kanto and Johto, he was invited to be the Host of the magnificent jubilee yet again. In fact, while the Saffron Christmas Gala had the tradition of annually inviting some famous person to be Host, whether they were a celebrity, a world-famous coordinator, or the mayor of Saffron, Lance had been chosen as the Host five times. This year, since he accepted the invite to be Host again, it would be his sixth. As I had sensed, and as he had explained, this was a big deal, and he took pride in being able to partake such a historic event.

But more than that, it was this event that brought us together as a couple. It was because and during this event that we started going out together officially. Before that, Lance was just a distant, famous figure in my life, someone who I had simply known and wouldn't mind getting to know more. Even while I was a younger trainer, since my teenage years, I had heard of him as some kind of prodigy pokémon trainer, and thus I was given a sense of familiarity with him not like that of a childhood friend, but something more like some famous TV figure that I knew because it was common knowledge. Later on, I had learned of him that he was Mr. Perfect in every sense, with both men and women falling for him like lemmings: he was a foot taller than me, going well into the six-foot range for his height, athletic, as he had a very well-built body, and reasonably intelligent, so much that he was a skilled jack-of-all-trades in every subject out there imaginable. He seemed like the type to date other famous figures like pop singer-actresses, or the daughters of big-name CEOs. This man had quite the impressive reputation.

From this, you could imagine my confusion when I got a personal invitation from Lance himself inviting me to the Saffron Christmas Gala last year. I still remember the invitation now: the sepia-colored paper was heavy and thick, with golden print in Victorian cursive courteously stating, “You are cordially invited to the annual Saffron Christmas Gala!” My own name had been personally written in his handwriting with jet-black ink from a fountain pen, as well as a message: “If you possibly can, dear Cynthia, please join me in this event. I would love to meet and get to know you. Fondly yours, Lance.”

The next thing I knew, I was utterly confused and bashful. What exactly was I supposed to do? There had been no one else in my life with such appeal and intelligence to invite me to an event, especially one who was romantically interested in me. I had heard previously about rumors of Lance having interest in me, and I saw tabloids from the corners of my eye from time to time screaming about Lance's interest in multiple women, including me. Of course, rumors being rumors and tabloids being tabloids, I never believed them. Not until that invitation, at least. I remembered reading the short message over and over, focusing on his word choices: “dear”, “would love”, “fondly yours”. There were so many things that I could not fathom from the message. I even extended my research out to actually Googling my own name with his, and the results I received were astonishing: he was “eyeing” me, and that as time went by, I was the “only one” on his mind. Every disbelieving article I had gathered up all led up to the conclusion that he truly was romantically after me.

Initially, I thought I would rebel in disgust. I had no interest in participating in any romantic relationship, as I found most of them unappealing and superficial; besides, I had too many ambitions and projects that were too important to give up for someone else. Yet, I softened just slightly just for this one time, allowing myself to open up for new experiences. I said to myself, “Okay, Cynthia. You've been busy anyway for the past few years of your life. Might as well take a breather with this Saffron Christmas Gala and see what happens with Lance.”

So I went. I responded to his invitation by letter, as it had asked me to do should I choose to go. Soon enough, another envelope came for me, expressing his delight that I could attend. He promised that he would have a first-class hotel room reserved for me in Saffron's most expensive and luxurious hotel, and said I was welcome to wait there until he returned so that we could properly meet each other. Upon my arrival, I checked into the hotel, but as I found it unentertaining to simply wait for him, I went out in a disguise to explore all of the holiday commotion.

I can still remember the brilliant red, green and golden streamers and sparkling confetti that littered the streets, all gleaming fantastically against Saffron's tall and glassy towers, ornamented Christmas trees placed in each corner of the street with red-bowed wreaths adorning the city lampposts. Screams of delighted children and cheers of happy crowds filled the air while a jazz band blared out “Deck the Halls” some lengths away. Scattered scents of peppermint and eggnog helped decorate the wintry cold, with occasional scents of warm gingerbread and hot chocolate passing by.

Amidst all of this, I was unintentionally pulled aside by a street vendor selling gingerbread lollipop cookies, and the vendor hadn't realized a potential customer was staring at his goods until he saw me (through my sunglasses) eyeing one. Him being a wily vendor, and me being a terrible sucker of sweets, I bought one outrageously overpriced gingerbread lollipop cookie.

But before I could even take a single bite of my needlessly-expensive gingerbread cookie, I suddenly saw that Lance was watching me. And that he had seen me fish out an unnecessarily large amount of cash for a small treat.

You could imagine me now, standing there frozen, feeling like a criminal caught robbing a bank. I probably had the most hilarious look of stupidity and pure embarrassment, sweating internally in panic, all while keeping on a dumb grin in an attempt to smooth the awkward silence between us. He said, “You're pretty cute when you blush.”

Then, he led me away from the busy streets, softly speaking about how if we had stayed out in the streets for too long, even in my disguise, we would be caught by the media, and we ended up in some quiet, abandoned alley somewhere near the outskirts of Saffron, and somehow by then I had finished eating my gingerbread lollipop cookie, and we kissed. So our first kiss tasted like gingerbread.

I was pretty sure that for the rest of that day, I looked like some breed of a euphoric dunce.

From then on, we admitted to each other our mutual desire to make a commitment to each other, regardless of our statuses to the world. It was the reason why I was sitting here, staring out the window as I anxiously waited for news regarding travel to Kanto, hoping for some possibility of to get there by the end of tonight. This was going to be our one- year anniversary as a couple, and I was determined to make an extra special moment in my life about it.

It would be extra special moment for good reasons. Though we shared our first kiss in less than a day of actually knowing each other, we had somehow both convinced ourselves that we were right before each other. At least, I had somehow convinced myself of this, and I had assumed he did as well.

Because we were both Master Champions, and were thus consistently bombarded with events to attend to and battles to compete against, Lance and I were always busy. Within our first year of dating each other, we only had around ten dates together, alone. Of course, there were occasional moments when the International Pokémon League hosted some other battle tournament or a fundraiser event, and whenever that happened, we requested to be with each other to help bring in a tremendous audience or help rake in enormous amounts of moolah. Still, those were never as valuable as alone time by ourselves. On both of our parts, I believe, we tried to communicate each other by messaging – texting, emailing, but the efforts were deemed quickly worthless, for neither of us found the time to reply to long messages that we had initially put so much time into. It was better, we must have decided, that we see each other and talk to each other face to face.

It was why I was so positive that this event would bring back the magic that had once enveloped the both of us, to bring us back into our romantic spirits. In spite of him being Host to the Saffron Christmas Gala again, which required an extraordinary amount of time and dedication, he promised to me that he would reserve for us alone, for us to exchange gifts and watch a sappy Christmas film together. Then, as he and I had both hoped, we would spend a week together up near the Mt. Silver Winter Resort with a cozy cottage reserved for us alone.

All of this added up to why this holiday season was going to be perfect, flawless, with nothing in our schedule to ruin our holiday season together.

But the snowstorm declared otherwise, sweeping all of our plans to hell.

* * *

 

After some time of impatient sighs and pacing back and forth around in my room, I heard a knock on my hotel door. Immediately, I opened it, greeted with a bellboy from the hotel lobby.

“Ah, Miss Cynthia,” he said cordially, and bowed once. “I have unfortunate news to deliver to you.”

“You mean...” I swallowed, not wanting to believe his next words. “There isn't any way to get to Kanto, at all?”

He shook his head. “No. I'm sorry.”

“No plane? No ferry even?”

“No,” he repeated.

I felt myself start to quiver a bit, so I steadied myself against the door. “That can't be!”

“Miss Cynthia.” The bellboy was trying his best to comfort me, almost sounding like an inexperienced babysitter reassuring the kid about to burst to tears that everything was gonna be okay. “This snowstorm is going to be biggest snowstorm to hit all of the regions in one hundred years – a century! The weathermen have been predicting this for two weeks now. Surely you must have been aware of this!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I agreed, agitated, ready to bolt out of my hotel room to search for any other alternatives with my own pair of eyes, “which means that even though I bought this plane ticket three months in advance to Saffron in Kanto, there is nothing I can do about it!”

Hearing this was like expecting my flight to Kalos land to Lumiose in three hours, but instead a thunderstorm conveniently sided up near the plane and decided to doom us to the ocean below.

Before the bellboy could say anything else, I ran out into the hallway, making my way to the hotel lobby where the big TV screen had an annoyingly urgent spokeswoman declaring the weather an emergency snowstorm. I stopped in time to hear the next words, only heightening my disbelief.

“... All international and region-to-region transportations are cancelled under the current government- declared emergency...”

Immediately after, I heard my cellphone beginning to ring. I took it out from my pocket, glancing quickly at its caller ID, reading that it was my mother. I looked at it in dumb shock before I picked it up.

“...Cynthia! ...Know you were supposed to go... the snowstorm... remember we're staying up at Snowpoint for...! They're still...”

“... As of now, the last transportation available before all transportations are officially closed include the express trains to Snowpoint, Eterna, Hearthome and Sunyshore from Twinleaf, Celestic, Pastoria... predicting that this will result millions of lost... up to perhaps a week of no public transportation after... snowstorm...”

“...Cynthia!”

“It's fine, so no worries,” I spoke suddenly with fake cheer, forcing myself to swallow my regret and disappointment down my throat. I realized that I had been standing there, listening to multiple sounds and voices immersing into my brain. With constrained enthusiasm, I half-laughed and said, “There's always next year, right?”

But even then, I wasn't sure if I had faith in my words. All I could think of was how everything. Was. Ruined.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to keep in mind: (1) I'm not out to bash WikiErrorShipping (Lance/Cynthia); I just happened to come up with a delightful, albeit possibly-cliched DarkSteelShipping holiday fanfic. Lance just happened to be the perfect victim. (2) This small fanfic is my attempt to get myself back into writing after one busy college semester of schoolwork and no fan-fiction writing. (Therefore, if my writing seems slightly under quality expectations, it's because of my lack of practice with general fiction writing.) (3) I'd like to say that this story is based off of Maureen Johnson's entertaining Christmas story "The Jubilee Express." You'll find similar parallels between her story and mine, so I do owe her the credit of the skeleton of the story as well as a lot of driving factors.


	2. Chapter 2

The current status of my situation was, in a nutshell, a wreck.

As I found that I couldn't stand there forever and wait for the snowstorm to go away while magically being able to make it in time for the holidays with Lance, I refused to let anything else control my plans for the last days of this year. If my initial holiday plans were ruined by the snowstorm, fine. So be it. If that was the way it was going, I was going to do something else on my own watch, something that I chose to do and take charge of, and that nothing else would stop me. I refused to let something else screw up my plans; I was going to control the final days of this year, my year, and make it worthwhile. It was my way of cheering myself up. So I made the decision to take the last express train to Snowpoint City. Of course, I did this while furiously muttering to myself on my way out of the Twinleaf Hotel. While having a hasty phone conversation with my mother, who reassured me that I still had time to catch the last express, and that I’d make it to her and the rest of the family in time, I had ordered the hotel staff to clear my room of my things and book me a ticket on the express to Snowpoint.

“It's no big deal, right? No big deal! Ahahaha,” I mumbled incoherently, deliriously, my heart crestfallen all the meantime. “They said it was the biggest snowstorm in a century, a century! And that transportation might not happen for a week, a week! You might as well ruin all of my plans with Lance! Our one-year anniversary must be a joke at this point!”

“Miss Cynthia?” The bellboy eyed me with concern, his voice slightly wary as he carried my duffel bag.

“Ah, I apologize for my behavior as of now.” I turned my face to him with an uncomfortably tight smile, trying to control my anxiety. “As you can see, I get anxious and upset when my plans don’t go as I want them to. Please excuse me as I am trying not to physically explode.”

He merely nodded, understanding that another attempt at conversation with me was useless and would quite possibly end him up out the window by my own hands.

* * *

Later, after having calmed down, I finally acknowledged to myself that I was sitting on the express to Snowpoint. It began with me slowly paying attention to the tiny details of the train – it was a two-story train, something to be expected of all the express trains running in Sinnoh to help occupy all of the passengers, with rather pleasant leather seats; every two rows of seats were faced squarely to each other, a table placed in between. The lights were dim, probably because the conductors were doing their best to conserve energy for the train; one had to consider the blizzard that they were trudging through.

Naturally, I called Lance immediately after having gained full acceptance of my dilemma. It took him a few rings before he could pick up.

 

“Cynthia,” Lance greeted me with a slightly irritated tone, “Kind of a bad time to talk now. Aren't I seeing you later on tonight anyway?”

 

 

“That's the problem, Lance,” I said with a sigh, my eyes drifting to the scene outside the window. “There won't be a 'later on' tonight. You know about the big snowstorm that's happening in Sinnoh right now. Apparently, all of the region-to-region and international flights and ferries are cancelled. There's no way for me to get to Kanto at this point. To top it all off, they said that there might not be any transportation for a week after the storm, so it ruins our plans we were going to have together.”

Lance grunted from the other end of the phone; it sounded like he was moving something heavy. “Oh. Well, that's a shame. It'll work out though. Do you think you and your Garchomp can fly here once this is over? That might save the situation.”

I felt my throat constrain; did he seriously just suggest I use my pokémon to come to Kanto in the blistering cold? “I'm not making any of my pokémon fly out even after this snowstorm ends – it's freezing out there and I will end up killing them if I make them do that.”

Lance sighed. “Listen, I know this is hard, but things like these happen in life.” He paused momentarily, and then, “We'll do another Christmas at Saffron. We'll reserve another cottage at the Mt. Silver Winter Resort next year after. Don't worry.”

Yeah, things like these do happen, but there's gotta be some way around it... I thought sadly. And another Christmas means waiting for another 365 days...

“Yeah,” I agreed with a forced tone of hope. “There is always a next year anyway.”

 

 

There was some silence between us temporarily, and then Lance grunted again.

“What's going on over there?”

“I'm trying to help move around a gigantic red ornament to one of the stage displays here on a street,” he answered. “I'm going to have to hang up soon. I'm getting busier and busier. Even with my pokémon's help, it's hard to finish everything. Look, are you going to be fine? Are you going anywhere else?”

“Yeah.” I straightened myself up, wanting to reciprocate his apparent progressive attitude. “I'm actually on the express train to Snowpoint to spend my holidays with my family.” Here, I lowered my voice, carefully shifting my eyes around the room as if I were casually observing my surroundings. “I'm stuck here with a bunch of random strangers and I don't know if any of them are secretly part of the media. You know how TV reporters and cameramen like to go around in disguises now and pounce on random people for their TV shows.”

Lance seemed indifferent, but I must have not minded his impassivity. “You know how to handle it. I'm sure you'll be fine. Call me when you get to Snowpoint, alright?”

“I'll do that,” I said. After, we exchanged goodbyes, and he hung up. I stared at my phone for some time before the obnoxious disconnect tone started looping itself.

Since Lance was my boyfriend, the one and only Lance, I knew he had a difficult schedule to sort out, so his life was essentially a jumble of fame, money and never-ending activity. Yes, Lance was basically perfect; I could not spot a single flaw about him. But even perfect people like him weren't immune to life's struggles. This, I could empathize with, and I always gave him a break because of it. Sure, this was Christmas, but I could stomach it, I could endure it. He was right, after all; we could always do another Christmas together at the Saffron Christmas Gala next year. He was probably going to be invited as Host again, and he would undoubtedly accept this offer once more. I’d end up going as a result.

Besides, Lance once admitted to me in one of our dates that out of all the girls he had dated, he appreciated me the most for being able to understand his position. In return, I felt that he finally got it, he finally understood how I felt. To a degree, I felt better about myself around him because we were both in the same position: we were both struggling together against the same problems. It was nice to know I wasn't the only one fighting against the troubles of the world. So when he was busy moving a gigantic red ornament to some display at a street in Saffron for the Saffron Christmas Gala, I couldn't blame him. No other girl, no other woman would understand, but I would. This accounted for all of the problems that arose between us from time to time. The Saffron Christmas Gala was no exception.

Plus, I think he liked being seen with me. After our first few dates together, the paparazzi (as expected) were eagerly flashing their steely cameras towards us outside the restaurant, and he didn't seem to mind showing me off. Yes, I was uncomfortable and uneasy, as I was someone unaccustomed to showing off myself to the public in regards to personal life. At the same time, he was kind and considerate enough to restrain himself from flaunting us off as a couple to the highest point where we'd make out in front of the press. Still, I think I ended up being grateful to him in the end, because if he liked being seen with me, I felt good about myself... It wasn't just that our public images benefited each others' in the end. It was because I had value, and I was glad to finally mean something significant to someone, especially Lance.

I sighed, leaned my head against the cold train window, and watched the snowflakes grow bigger and heavier while the sky grew darker; the snow must have been at least half a meter by now and the sun must have already set down. It felt as though the snow and dark sky was trying to enclose me into a small space – a genuine Sinnohnian experience. For the first time in a long while, I felt true loneliness seep into me again.

To be sure, loneliness was no stranger to me. In all of my life, I never had a stable social circle (my pokémon, I concluded, didn't count and neither did my loving family), let alone a stable romantic partner. “Friends” came and gone, and infatuations and little crushes, whether I had them or the other party did, I never bothered to advance after. Lance was my first boyfriend, my first romantic partner in general. But now that we couldn't see each other for the holiday season – a season you were supposed to spend your time with loved ones in the first place – I felt alone. This year, I knew I had desperately wanted to spend the holidays with someone else other than my pokémon and my family. I wanted to establish a deeper connection with someone else, Lance, and it was all ruined.

Accepting this fate, I ended up staring out the window for the next two hours, seeing the falling snow, the dark sky and feeling my old friend called loneliness wrap me in its loving embrace.

* * *

You could imagine my boredom on the train. I tried to read some of my books – I had three of them with me, but each and every book I picked up, I failed to get into. Reading probably wasn't going to be in the best of my interest anyway; at one point, with the dark winter sky outside and the dim lights of the train, it would've been difficult to read, and I didn't feel like pulling out my reading glasses.

I could have possibly called my family and check in on everyone, including my little sister, who I had promised I would talk to. Yet, like my attempt with reading, I wasn't in the mood. I felt slightly guilty; my little sister loved me, and I loved her equally back as well, but trying to attempt a conversation with her in an unhappy mood was something I felt even guiltier about. It was better to save it until I saw her at Snowpoint. Then we could bake all the Christmas cookies, watch all of the episodes of Cresselia & Friends and Sinnoh Contest Makeovers and battle with our pokémon in the snow as much as we wanted to. I simply couldn't deal with the moment that my plans, for the first time in years, were destroyed and completely off course.

Therefore, staring out the window for the next two hours just seeing the blizzard and the dark sky can only do so much before you start realizing you're hungry. Conveniently, a crew member of the train started going around with a packed minibar, and when he arrived to my seat, I ordered a lot of food. You might as well have called me a pachirisu getting ready for hibernation: two mini pizzas, a bag of BBQ tamato chips, a bag of gingerbread cookies (yes, really), and one tall bottle of pecha juice. To be clear, I did not know whether or not I was going to finish it all, but somehow, disappointment and anger makes me eat like there's no tomorrow. Besides, it seemed smart to stock up on food now. When it came to big snowstorms like this one, you couldn't tell what was going to happen next, so it was better to be prepared than never.

By the time I finished my first pizza, I started noting the snowstorm severity. It had gotten far worse, with the train shaking from the tenacious winds, which refused to quiet down. Looking out the window, I saw that the snow was getting harder and faster, swirling around with the winds as it beat against the windows of the train. It was dizzying up my vision with white bombarded all over the sight. In turn, I felt the train start to slow down even more. At this point, I wondered how far to Snowpoint exactly this express had gone.

As I began opening my bag of gingerbread cookies, I heard someone entering from one of the car doors behind me. I didn't give much thought to the individual until he paused next to my table. Looking up, I saw a tall and fit youth, probably in his early 20s; judging from his outer appearance, and a rather meticulously theatrical one at that, he was most likely a contest coordinator. His figure seemed vaguely familiar; perhaps I had seen him on TV a few timeson the Sinnoh Contest TV Channel.

“Hi there,” he greeted, almost hesitantly, as if he were careful in choosing his next words to say. “Is it alright if I sit here?”

I looked around me, searching to see if there were any other available seats. There weren't any, as every other seat was occupied by another person and their accommodating bag. Shrugging my shoulders offhandedly, I replied, “It's fine. I won't mind.”

“Great, thanks.” He sat down across from me.

I observed him carefully, wondering if he was going to pull any strange tricks and ruin anything else along my way this holiday season. However, the kid seemed honest, and it seemed he just wanted someone to talk to. I found myself pitying him.

“Where are you headed?” he asked. A conversation seemed only right to start.

“To my family. I was supposed to meet my boyfriend in Kanto but there was a change of plans.” I nodded out to the snowstorm.

“Ah, yeah. The snowstorm.” He half-chuckled. “It's funny. I was supposed to meet my girlfriend in Snowpoint, but I'm a little worried the train won't make it there.”

I tried not to cringe at listening to his words. “At this point, everything that's going on now is pretty much unpredictable. All we can do is hope for the best.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his expression sullen. Suddenly, he forced himself out of his gloominess, faced me squarely and reached out his hand. “Pardon me, I never introduced myself properly. I'm Aidan. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Cindy,” I said in response, shaking my hand with his. For privacy reasons, as you might have imagined, I never gave out my real name in front of random people. Had I told him Cynthia instead, he would have deduced I was the Champion; my long blond hair was not easy to hide in spite of the dark train that hid my distinct facial features, the hat atop my head, and the fact that I had swept my hair to the side in a ponytail.

“So, it looks like you're a trainer, right?”

I smiled, not sure if I was liking where this was going. “I am.”

“Are you in contest coordinating?”

“No, actually. I'm just a trainer who participates in battles.”

“Oh, I see. You struck me as a kind of—”

His sentence was cut off by the sound of the car door flying open, and what followed was a string of piercing, girlishly high squeals — reminiscent of the clichéd High School Musical melodrama. At this, Aidan and I turned around to find a bratty troupe of twenty divas (yes, I counted) wearing flashy jewelry and thick bright-pink winter dresses, each with a gem-studded belt of pokéballs attached to their waists. The scent of their girly, floral perfume was strong; it nearly made me want to choke from the amount of pernicious man-made chemicals entering my lungs. Instantly, I could see they were contest coordinators.

Seriously? I thought, my face frowning irritably. Why, for the love of everything holy and sacred, WHY?

Now, you must give me some credit. I am an adult, a Master Champion, the Master Champion of the Sinnoh Region. I am expected to handle every problem in my way with sincere maturity and intelligence. However, the exception begins when your day is getting crappier by each minute that's passing, and that there are certain primal triggers from your past that are pushed which can make you quite a nasty fellow. In this case, immature “popular” wannabe-star-contest-coordinators were absolutely no help to my day; I could feel their immaturity rubbing off onto me, which only made everything worse.

The divas instantly clattered around the poor crewman with the minibar like durants, screaming “Oh my gawd! I'm starving!” every second or so. Some rudely began sitting on the tables of other passengers, causing them to look at the divas in utter disgust and contempt.

Aidan, in the meantime, had slouched down into his seat, attempting to cover his face with a hand. I figured he must have come here as an endeavor to escape him; his day must have been crappy as well. First, there was the chance that he couldn't get to his girlfriend (and he was pretty disheartened when letting me know), and now the whole ensemble of spoiled divas made the night even more unpleasant.

“All of the food here has carbs!” one complained. Hearing that made my skin twitch.

“Well, duh! Train food is always gonna be disgusting anyway!” another said loudly.

“I thought at least there'd, like, be something decent, you know!”

I looked at the crewman to see how well he was doing; he looked more or less like he was going to explode out of crankiness. (I couldn't blame him; when he had served me my food, he already seemed like he was in an ill mood. I gave him a rather heavy tip, which seemed to relieve him somewhat, but now I could see that all of my efforts to cheer him up were in vain.)

Then, some of the divas turned to us. Actually, they just turned to Aidan. “Oh my gawd! Aidan! You're, like, here!”

He smiled more weakly than politely. “Hello, haha...”

“This is such a terrible night! I mean, have you even seen the snow outside? Isn't everything such a mess right now?”

Aidan half-looked at me and whispered, “She asked me that a few minutes ago in the other car.”

I suppressed a laugh. This diva was reaaally smart. Nonetheless, the divas continued to clamor around Aidan, one even shoving her way next to me. Apparently, she couldn't seem to focus on the fact that I was far older than her, and that her sense of respect was nonexistent.

“Isn't it??” Arceus, she was persistent.

Aidan nodded nicely. “Yes, it is.”

“I know, right? Like, we were all supposed to go to

Hearthome for a holiday party, but like, we got on the wrong train, so, like, now we're all stuck here!”

Oh. How lovely.

The diva started paying attention to me only when she noticed that Aidan was still paying attention to me. Cheekily, she pointed an index finger to my face. “Who are you?”

“Ah, this is Cindy,” Aidan filled in for me. I smiled to him in thanks, for I would have rather not talked to the diva anyway.

She introduced herself as Lizzy, and then the names of all the other divas rattled off. I must have yawned all the way through — up to now, even as I'm telling you this story, I can't remember any other name but hers.

When all of the names were introduced, Lizzy started leaning against Aidan, desperate for his attention. More divas started clamoring around us now, and many started hinting quite urgently for me to give up my seat for them; by now, all of them were on this side of the car, a third of them on their phones texting, a third of them munching on food, and a third of them all crowded around Aidan and me.

Despite everything, I decided to sit still like a stone and give them the silent treatment. In spite of their immaturity, I would not budge an inch unless some really horrific catastrophe made me do otherwise.

But just as I was beginning to brace myself, the train suddenly halted, making everyone (quite literally) fly off of our seats. The wheels screeched painfully, deafening our ears as the luggage in the racks above us fell to the ground. Everyone, regardless if they were sitting on a seat or not, fell to the floor, with me on top of some divas, who screamed pathetically. Food and drinks splattered all over the place, spilling onto others. Somehow, I was fortunate enough not to have my own food stain my clothing, but to my amusement, my second pizza landed directly face front on Lizzy's dress.

At the same time, the lights suddenly jerked forward brightly and remained that way for a good few seconds. Aidan looked up at me to see if I was okay, I presumed, before his eyes widened and he realized who was right before him.

“Wait... You're Cynthia! The Champion of Sinnoh!” Yes, that was exactly what I needed.

At this abrupt declaration, everyone, including the divas, glanced up at me, and before my eyes, I saw everyone's expression melt into surprise and hysteria.

“OHMYGAWD THE SINNOH CHAMPION IS HERE!”

“IT'S ACTUALLY CYNTHIA?”

To which a bunch of screams of divas followed next. I looked at Aidan painfully, as if to say, “Why, dear Arceus? _Why?_ ”

I had to be extremely physical at this point, pushing my shoulders against them and threatening them with kicks to get out of my way. There was no way I was going to be able to sit in my seat anymore. Abandoning my food (scattered all over the floor now), I went to stand up, though just as I had, the lights immediately turned off.

“It's pitch black in here!” a diva complained. “I can't even see what's in front of me!”

The intercom sputtered slowly to life, and a nervous conductor started speaking. Surprisingly, everyone managed to stay quiet for this, aside from a few “SSSHHH!”s from other irritated passengers to the divas.

“Uh, good evening ladies and gents, haha... As you can see, we're having difficulty maneuvering this train in this blasted weather. Right now, we're only an hour and a half away from Snowpoint, as we've landed pretty close to Aulighte Town. We've contacted the emergency team, so hopefully, they might do something. In the meantime, however, the snow won't stop until tomorrow... We're probably gonna be stuck here all night folks.”

 

 

I looked out the window for any sign of civilization. In the near distance, I saw what looked like a warmly-glowing building against the snow, its front entrance labeled as Samir's Grill. This looked like a familiar place, and it reassured me that what the conductor had said was right.

“We're also sorry to announce, that um, we're going to cut down the heat to save some energy. This train will get cold in the meantime. So if anyone has any blankets or anything, we are asking that you share it with others.”

“You know what,” I muttered to myself, “this is getting me nowhere. I'm better off getting out of this train and finding a place in Aulighte.”

With everyone's suitcases dumped to the floor, it was easy to feel which duffel bag was mine. Grabbing it quickly, I struggled through the mass of fallen food and cluttered suitcases. This decision was going to be worthwhile, it had to be. I would have liked to think that Lance would be proud of me for making this choice anyhow.

And thus, I stormed my way out of the car, forcing myself to open the icy car door. The metal steps outside were frozen with ice, but I managed to walk down them without slipping. I landed squarely in the snow, the snow itself reaching a little over my knees.

Then, I saw one of the conductors walking along in the snow with a lantern from the corner of my eye, and she seemed to notice that I was one of the train's passengers.

“Wait, you're leaving?”

I turned my head to her and attempted to smile. “I'm sorry, I can't deal with this right now. I'm heading over there,” I said to her, pointing to Samir's Grill. “Thanks for everything.”

 

 

With that, I continued plodding through the snow, ignoring the conductor's reply, ignoring the diva's screams that were becoming more apparent even as I kept walking, ignoring everything behind me.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Have you ever forced yourself to walk in nearly a meter of snow in the middle of a snowstorm because of any urgent determination? I can say for a fact that it is one of the most difficult things to do, especially in Sinnoh winters where the snowflakes are literally blown into your eyes, but it will pay off in the end. Whatever your initial determination is, hold onto it; it'll make things easier when you're getting soaked with snow with every step that you take.

That was why, in spite of the cancelled flights, my ruined plans, the unexpected decision to take the Snowpoint express, the divas, I gained a sense of peace, of tranquility as I trudged along the snow in the cold night. Perhaps it was because now that I was actually by myself – with no one to bother me, with no one to make my night worse. With no one around me, I felt at ease, even more so than when I had been on the train. To some extent, it felt like I was the only human being left in the world, owning the entire world to myself, and while it might seem depressing, it was thoroughly soothing for me to feel that.

Were it not for the heavy snow, I would have gotten to Samir's Grill in no more than three minutes. As the snow was thick, it took about ten minutes for me to get to the place. When I reached the door, I had tripped over myself in the snow multiple times; I might as well have been taking a bath in snow.

Samir's Grill, though, ended up being its own little haven. It had its shortcomings: the air was far too dry and warm, with brightly corny red, green and gold Christmas decorations that hung on every corner of the place. Even worse, they were playing cheesy Christmas music in the backgrounds; thankfully they weren't loud. It smelled of warm grease and floor detergent, not quite the cordial scents one would have liked to be greeted with. Still, it was all far better than what I had abandoned on the train.

As expected on a Christmas Eve, there weren't much people either. There seemed to be no one behind the counter (or the kitchen from what I could see), but I assumed if you called out for service, someone would appear. In one corner, there was a lonely woman smoking a cigarette, who didn't seem to care that someone else had entered the restaurant. I should have wondered why these guys were open at this time of year, but I was too selfish at that point to even bother.

“Oh, looks like someone else came in.” From the kitchen, I heard a sunny male voice, a rather pleasant relief in comparison to the bleakness outside. As the footsteps grew audibly clear, I saw a stout, cheerful middle-aged man walk out to the counter. He was wearing an apron, printed with the restaurant logo. Behind him was a typical male teenager, complete with zits and a bored face. “Welcome to Samir's Grill. I'm Fred, the boss of the place. This is Dan, my helper. Everything's on me tonight. You can order whatever you want without having to pay a single penny.”

I smiled in an attempt to demonstrate good manners. “Thanks.”

I would order, but not before grabbing the nearest seat next to me, setting down my drenched duffel bag — at that point, if things inside my duffel were wet, I didn't care. From the closest corner next to me, a pile of the day's Sinnoh Times sat with a self-serving coffee machine, a stack of plastic cups neatly lined next to it. I was about to grab a newspaper and a coffee when I was abruptly cut off.

“Uh, you might wanna—”

I glanced back at Fred in confusion, wondering what he was beginning to talk about. From my left, I heard a door swing open, the sound of a toilet flushing following after. At the entrance, I saw a man, around his sixties perhaps, with a pudgy belly, covered head to toe in plastic bags — everything including his wool-hat on top of his head, his neck, his hands, his shoes. His plastic bags were covered plastic bags, for crying out loud. Internally, I dubbed him the Plastic Bag Man.

Before I could do anything else, he went over to take a newspaper and a cup of coffee for himself. I backed off, wondering had I done the same, I'd be provoking the breaking of some unspoken ritual that only the Plastic Bag Man could execute.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I'm surviving,” I said with a half-smile. I tried not to get distracted by the ridiculous amount of plastic bags on him.

“It's a rough night out there.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”

“Need to plow through any snow anywhere?”

I raised an eyebrow, doing my best to not come off as impolite. “Well, unless you can plow through the snow train tracks, that'd be great.”

He looked at me back in question, like a confused lillipup, apparently not taken by my potential rudeness. Actually, that was my attempt at being funny, but it failed.

And then, with a genuinely thoughtful voice, he said as he shook his head, “No can do. My machine can't do that.” Both Fred and Dan shook their heads, shrugged their shoulders and shot me a sympathetic look. I sighed, ready to face-palm myself. Instead, I looked at the menu, deciding that I might as well have ordered something from there. Truthfully I wasn't hungry, but Fred and Dan (well, Fred really) were willing to cook and it only seemed proper to order something anyway. I ended up ordering a falafel sandwich with fries on the side. Then, seeing that Plastic Bag Man was rather close to me, I opted to go near the window.

Though it was colder over there, I chose that over him. “Here's some coffee with your order.” Dan came over when my meal was done, his expression dull.

“Thanks.” I took note of the coffee; while it wasn't Starbucks quality, it was all I was going to get.

In the midst of my meal, Fred made some small chat with me from the counter. I didn't mind; talking with someone was probably what I needed to help me deal with my loony night so far.

“So how did you end up here?”

“I was on the express train to Snowpoint to get to my family for the holidays. It got stuck in the snow over there.” I pointed out to the window to indicate where the train was, though it was practically hidden by the blizzard at this point.

The Plastic Bag Man shook his head again. “No can do. My machine can't do that.”

He turned a page of his newspaper, but one couldn't be too sure if he was actually reading it.

Fred simply went along, half-bouncing and half-nodding his head. “It's hard for everyone on that train, I can imagine.” Here, he sighed. “Well, if you need anything else, just call me back in the kitchen.”

I nodded. “Sure. Thanks again.”

Somewhere in Saffron, I began thinking to myself, the Saffron Christmas Gala would be on full blast. The craziest of the festival usually started happening on Christmas Eve, and it ended around Christmas Day evening. Sometimes, the craziest went well into Boxing Day. At this point, I could imagine music at its loudest, the loudspeakers blaring holiday tunes as gleaming streamers and shiny confetti rained down on people. Lance was probably cutting the first slice of the magnificent ten-foot fruitcake (no joke — every year, someone always took the challenge of making the ten-foot fruitcake, and it had to be at least ten feet tall), or taking the first sip of the infamous eggnog latte made by Saffron's world-famous barista, or cutting the sparkling red bow to let the Saffron Ice Skating Competition commence. I wondered how it would go if I were there; as Host, Lance had to wear an exquisite tuxedo. As the Host's girlfriend, I'd probably have to accompany him in a breathtaking gown.

I contemplated on calling Lance. After all, he said to call him once I had arrived at Snowpoint. Except, I wasn't going to make it to Snowpoint. This little restaurant near the edge of Aulighte Town was as far as I was going this holiday season.

_I'll just leave a voice message for him instead_ , I thought. _It's the more sensible thing to do, especially since he's so busy right now._

So I left him a voice message, quickly summarizing with fake joy and coerced laughter at how I wasn't at Snowpoint, and that I was marooned at a little town in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, at a small restaurant with Plastic Bag Man next to me. My voice turned more sober as I continued my message, and by the end, I merely drifted off into silence and hung up. I thought somewhere inside me that the message might have been irritating; I had known Lance long enough to know that swinging from one emotion to the next in any conversation was uncomfortable for him. I contemplated on calling him again to leave him another voice message — one more straightforward and direct.

But then... the door to the restaurant opened, and the chills of the winter wind rushed in, seeming to bring in someone else, another man. He was tall, with a healthy figure, his silver hair surprisingly soft in my vision under the lighting. He wore a thick, navy blue winter coat, one much more practical than mine, with a fuzzy-looking wool hat. His black scarf wrapped half of his face, so I couldn't make out comprehensively what exactly he looked like.

Then, I wondered momentarily if he was going to be as strange as Plastic Bag Man, dull as teenager Dan, or normal as Fred.

“Can't believe this place is still open,” the guy said to no one in particular. “Thank Arceus.”

I focused his voice in my head; it was very familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint where I had once heard it.

From behind the kitchen once again, I heard Fred's voice.

“Steven! Good to hear you, my boy!”

My heart must have skipped a beat. I was stunned to silence.

_Steven... Stone?_

“Hello there,” Plastic Bag Man greeted Steven as he raised his coffee cup.

“Hey,” Steven said in return.

“How'd you end up out here on a night like this?” Fred called from the kitchen.

“I was out near the Aulighte Mountains again, this time with my Excadrill and Aggron,” he explained, taking off his scarf. “I'm still trying to find something new, but it's been nothing but Plate shards and evolutionary stones so far.”

“I was gonna ask if you needed a plow,” Plastic Bag Man said, resuming back to his newspaper.

Steven chuckled. “Sorry, I don't need one. At least, not today.”

“Hey Steven,” Fred said, now in front of the counter,

“Everything's on me tonight, so feel free to order whatever you'd like.”

“Thanks, but I think I'll pass.”

I must have been staring at him for an unnaturally long time; my mouth might have been ungracefully open as I was eating a french fry. What surprised me even more: I didn't blush or feel any fluttering emotions tremble inside me. Steven, on the other hand, noticed me, and his expression seemed to brighten even more.

“Cynthia! It's been quite a while!”

“I can say the same for you,” I said in astonishment after pulling myself together. “What a surprise.”

Steven looked around the restaurant once more, glancing at the other humans existent in the room before turning to me again. “Mind if I sit here?”

“... Not at all,” I replied, uselessly moving my own meal. The lonely woman appeared antisocial, and Plastic Bag Man wasn't any better.

He leaned slightly forward in front of me. “Don't worry about him,” he said very quietly, pointing to Plastic Bag Man, “he's safe. Just don't get drowned into a conversation with him. He can talk for an hour about spoons. I've personally been through that experience. Not fun. As for her, I've seen her here often, but I haven't exchanged a single word with her. Your guess about her is as good as mine.”

I nodded in agreement, going along with what he said. It seemed that Steven was a familiar here; how was it that another Master Champion was residing in my region without my knowing? How long had he been living here now?

“Anyway, we have a lot to catch up on,” Steven went on, his voice more at room noise level now. He smiled again. “How have you been lately? I keep hearing you on the news everywhere.”

“Busy,” I said with a smile in return. It seemed rude to not smile back to his own radiant expression.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he chuckled, crossing his arms. “How did you get here, though?”

“I was on the express to Snowpoint to meet my family,” I explained, indicating the train outside, though I guessed that by now it was a snow mountain. However, it was futile; I wondered how embarrassing I looked in front of Steven right now. “The train crashed into snow. And I left it, seeing that the situation here was probably better than what was happening on the train.”

 

 

Steven sighed, looking out the window with me. “Ah. That's unfortunate.”

“Talk about luck,” I sighed. I must have been ruining his happy mood. There was something about it that annoyed me, something about his happiness in particular. “I was actually supposed to meet my boyfriend in Saffron, but all the flights and ferries to Kanto were cancelled because of the snowstorm.”

I decided to slip that into the conversation, probably because of my paranoia that he was attempting to hit on me. A part of my brain was still thinking about calling Lance to give him a second voice message. And, I tried to be funny again.

Steven suppressed his laugh, covering his mouth with a hand as he leaned forward with his arms. He tapped the table with his knuckles, smiling as he signaled the both of us to move away from the subject. Me being stubborn, I tried to save the situation by explaining my reason for saying what I said.

“I said that only because right before you entered, I had finished calling him...” Arceus, I was quite the smooth talker.

“So I assume that you had a nice discussion with him,” Steven commented generously.

I nodded, my smile awkward. “Well... I left him a voice message. He's actually busy...”

At least I was being honest! Give me a break, sweet Mew!

 

 

Steven glanced at my phone sitting before him, then at me, but made no comment.

“I mean,” I was attempting to save the situation, but I was only spiraling myself to clumsy defeat at this point, “Lance is the Host of the Saffron Christmas Gala again, and I was supposed to go and be the Hostess technically... But, as you can see, the plans are ruined. So. Regretfully I'm stuck here in Sinnoh.”

I saw one of Steven's eyebrows raise up when I told him my story.

“Saffron Christmas Gala, huh,” Steven said after a small silence. Was he not going to make any comment that my boyfriend was Lance, the Master Champion of Kanto and Johto? Then again, he might have heard from somewhere that we were officially a couple, so he probably wasn't surprised at all.

“He takes pride in being Host. It's his sixth year as Host. I mean, it's a big deal to him, and to me as well. We started dating from last year's Saffron Christmas Gala. So it's our one-year anniversary. Yeah.”

Steven nodded along this time, though I could still sense that he had questions about my story I told him. Internally, I must have been screaming and crying out of sheer embarrassment. After all, me throwing around the fact that it was our one-year anniversary to someone who didn't even need to know was a huge demonstration of my pathetic stupidity.

“Well, the Saffron Christmas Gala is always a momentous occasion,” he offered. “I remember being there a couple of times. It's lots of fun.”

 

 

It was time to change topics.

“So.” I straightened my back. “How long have you been living here in Sinnoh? I'm surprised at myself for not knowing that another Master Champion was residing in the same region I was living in.”

“Oh, it's only been half a year so far. I came to Sinnoh on my own agenda, as I've been hiding from the world. You know how it is being a Master Champion.” Here, he sighed with grateful satisfaction. “Your region is immensely beautiful, in ways no other region in this world can rival. Aulighte Town is absolutely delightful, a very splendid place on its own. I love it here. Oh?”

At this question, Steven was looking out the window again; I joined him, noticing people starting to emerge to sight within the blizzard.

“Those are the passengers from the train,” I said, surprised that I wasn't the only one who had chosen to leave. It was probably freezing on that train by now. “Wait...”

And then, to my dismay, they swarmed. Like angry beedrill. All of them, including the divas, screaming and yelping and ready to drag in wet snow and chilly winds.

“Sweet mother of Mew."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Did I seriously need this? Did I seriously need a bunch of fanboys and fangirls to chase me down all the way to the restaurant I was currently in, demanding that I give them autographs and let them touch my pokémon? Did I seriously need a bunch of divas to come stomping in the restaurant, demanding that I give them my full attention, to know each and every one of them personally so that they'd finally know someone truly “famous”?

No, I didn't. I didn't need any of it. At all.

It didn't help that the one and only Steven Stone was with me when all of this happened. When everyone on the crashed-express-train-to-Snowpoint finds out that Cynthia the Master Champion is in a small restaurant not far from where they are, they apparently have no problem treading through the blistering cold. Oh wait, Steven Stone, the Master Champion of Hoenn, is also there? This makes the visit to the restaurant twice as worthy! We gotta catch them before they're too late!

(Of course, there were some sensible people — passengers on the train who had no interest in screaming after me, but rather, in my guess, found the train unsuitable to their needs and left for better means of survival through this blizzard, all found within the modest restaurant known as Samir's Grill.)

It became quickly predictable that the entire restaurant was going to fluctuate into a mass of chaos. I looked over to the other four humans in the restaurant: the lonely woman seemed mildly interested before sulking back to her self-pity party, Plastic Bag Man was indifferent to the situation, his eyes stuck to the newspaper, Fred looked like he was plotting on removing the free-food-for-everyone-on- Christmas-Eve to make loads of moolah (after all, there were a lot of passengers; what happened to his once-so-charitable heart?), and Dan's bored expression suddenly turned into an exuberant reaction of giddiness and lust (all thanks to the divas ready to invade the restaurant). In the meantime, I stood up and grabbed my duffel bag, swinging it around my shoulder; Steven stood up with me in response, looking like he wanted to ask me where I was headed next.

As soon as the flock of passengers landed in the restaurant, there seemed to emerge two groups: the first was the group that didn't care that Steven and I were there (my favorite of the two groups), and the group that coveted us (and half of that group being teenage boys were gushing over the divas, babbling like babies just staring at them).

“Well, this is splendid,” I mumbled sarcastically under my breath.

Meanwhile, a sudden clattering emerged from the kitchen, followed with a euphoric cry (Dan's Christmas wish must've come true — he was literally given a bunch of pretty divas all standing in the restaurant). Fred must have been preparing the restaurant for its customers. Either way, the sound provided ample distraction for me to whisper to Steven.

“Is there somewhere else to go? Like a Starbucks? I'd rather not stay here.”

Oddly enough, I saw Steven flinch at the mention of the coffeehouse chain. I gave him a questioning look, but didn't press any further on the issue.

“Can I do anything for you beautiful ladies?” Dan drooled gleefully from behind the counter. There were pink hearts bursting from his eyes (literally).

“Ohmygawd it's so cold outside! Someone turn the heat up!”

Oh, no.

“This is, like, tons times better than that cold train!”

No.

“Eeek! It's Cynthia and Steven Stone!!”

No.

“Steven Stone!” a diva sighed dreamily, though she looked like she was going to faint just seeing Steven before her eyes; the poor thing.

_No._

“Cynthia! Cynthia! Cynthia!”

Half of the restaurant was roaring at this point, the flock trapping us into one corner with no open exit. Meanwhile, Dan nearly tripped on the floor just reaching for the thermostat. The rest of the teenage boys had saliva leaking from their mouths.

I needed to get out of here, pronto.

By now, I had noticed Steven was very wordless about the entire situation; he tilted his head to the side with considerable irritation. Something inside him shifted, but I couldn't tell what exactly had changed. I could only go so far as to guess — publicity, perhaps. He did mention that he was hiding from the world for six months now. Now that he was exposed once again to the general public, my best assumption was that he was displeased with his image uncovered in the small town of Aulighte.

“This is going to get out of hand,” I heard him mutter somewhat unpleasantly. Then, he spoke to me, “Everything's closed. It's Christmas Eve. This place being open was unexpected to begin with. It's probably the only thing open here.”

Through the ever-deafening screams and questions coming from the crowd, I pulled Steven aside with my hand gripped to his arm, perhaps a little too harshly, our faces turned away from the crowd. He didn't seem to jerk back, but it definitely caught him unexpected.

“Let me say something, Steven Stone, I do not want to get wrapped up in this mess,” I whispered sternly near his ear. “I got off that train for this very reason.”

He didn't seem to mind my bossy attitude. Instead, he lightly touched my arm in response, a welcome comfort, I admit, and said, “I'm going to go back to my house. Why don't you come with me? It's not very far from here. And, it's better than nowhere. Far better than here, I can assure you.”

“Anything to get away from this goddamn hellhole,” I said, turning myself away from him before facing the clamorous crowd.

Immediately, I felt a full blast of questions and screams squarely hit my face. Shouting over them would be no use, so I shoved my way out of the throng of people to the restaurant entrance, doing my best to ignore their cries of protest. Steven followed pretty quickly, coming just in time to help me push open the door outside. The amount of snow accumulated was impressive; it took the both of us to open the door fully so we both could have room to get out of the place. While we didn't say our proper goodbyes to Fred or anyone else, I figured it was for the best.

When Steven and I were fully outside, the door closed behind us, we could hear disappointed groans and whines coming through the glass windows. I felt no sympathy for anyone in the restaurant — I was too absorbed in my own problems at the moment to even care.

The amount of snow on the ground grew quickly within the hour I had stayed at Samir's Grill. At this point, the snow had reached all the way to my thighs from where I stood in front of the plowed sidewalk. The only thing I was grateful for were the winds; they seemed to calm down momentarily, for at present they felt more like gentle breezes in comparison to the previously bitter howls. (I spontaneously remembered that the plowed sidewalk must have been the work of Plastic Bag Man; I felt sudden regret for not thanking him for the plowed sidewalk, but it was too late to go back to do so.) Now, as Steven and I stood outside together, the snowflakes falling from the sky were as thick as coins, and they stuck onto my felt coat like dandruff to hair. I stayed motionless temporarily, wondering what exactly happened to me thus far. First, a snowstorm... then no plane or ferry to Kanto... then a train crash in rural Sinnoh...

Steven went ahead of me first, and it didn't take long for him to notice I wasn't following. He looked at me and said with an empathetic smile, “Are you coming, Cynthia?”

I shook my head once, my bangs swishing in motion as I straightened myself. “I am.”

“Sure?” he asked again.

“Yes. Let's go.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

During the walk to his house, I mostly was following Steven; we walked in a way where we were next to each other, but he was always slightly ahead of me as he knew where his own house was. We passed through Aulighte Town, seeing occasional lit lampposts to help guide our path — “The shortest, most direct way to my house is cutting across Aulighte Town,” Steven said — with petite, closed shops and cozy, hearty homes spread across the townscape. Everywhere we walked, within every distance, I saw hopeful glows of holiday lights.

For the first minutes of our walk, there was a quiet that hung between us. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward by any means. Okay, I'm lying. It was uncomfortable, and awkward, but not as much as you might have thought it would have been. To begin with, it was _cold_. By cold, I mean _cold_. Sinnoh winters are notorious to other foreigners for their relentlessly and unforgivingly freezing temperatures and thick snow. Now, however, even for a Sinnoh native like myself, this blizzard proved itself to be an exception. I was even surprised that Steven, being a Hoenn native, was managing well in this weather. Thus, talking in this cold weather would have taken away the energy we needed to keep marching through the snow. We didn't need cold air entering our systems anyway.

At the same time, it allowed us to organize our internal thoughts, to process everything that had happened to us thus far. I didn't know what was on Steven's mind, but I was sure my mind was having its own party, thoughts dancing tirelessly in my head all over. I gathered every single memory I could remember with Steven from the past — seeing him now made me want to reconsider what had happened to us in between the past.

As an adolescent, Steven Stone was not my rival. I had only heard of him via media as a powerful trainer with multiple talents; he made an impressive jack-of-all-trades in addition to his passion for battling. Thus, I never had a true battle with him, not even a quick one-on-one. We only met each other when all of the Master Champions from around the world gathered together for an International Pokémon League Conference a few years back. He spotted me from a distance at the introductory reception, and we grew to know each other from then. I'll be honest here; the first time I saw him, I thought he was quite the enchanting charmer. It was instantly easy to read that he had broken many, many hearts, intentionally or not. And somewhere deep down, I might have truly been attracted to him; if I did, I ended up doing what I usually did with fears I couldn't immediately deal with: I shoved it all down to a space of darkness, to the unknown abyss of my mind that I always neglected to care for properly.

Still, at our initial meeting, we were quite formal with each other, regardless if there were “sparks” or not. At least, I was quite formal, uptight and giving off signs that I wasn't interested in pursuing any romantic relationship with him, let alone anyone in general. We departed that league conference on decent terms, and it had remained that way since for the next few years. Occasionally, I heard his name pop up often, through media no less; now that Steven was right next to me, I began wondering just exactly how much time I had secretly, subconsciously devoted to thinking about him. What did I truly know about him? From the depths of my mind, my very being, who was Steven Stone?

The truth hit me like a train.

I really didn't know this man.

...

Here I was, walking in an abandoned, barren winter landscape, with a ~~charming~~ stranger beside me. Great, just great. Great, great, great, _great._ This was exactly what I needed to help cheer me up on my holiday season.

All of this, I thought with a completely stoic face.

My phone abruptly started ringing as my thoughts were gaining density, solidifying itself into my head. I was thankful for the distraction, and I hoped desperately it would be Lance. After all, _he_ was my _boyfriend_ , and I couldn't let anyone else get to me while I was stranded with a ~~charming~~ stranger. And when it was Lance, I'd have a little fun showing him off in front of Steven. I stopped walking (as did Steven), and I took my cellphone out from my coat pocket.

To my distress, it was not Lance, but some unknown number. I thought I saw a slight smile of disbelief coming from Steven, but I ignored it, blaming it on the dark vision conditions.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Cynthia! Are you okay?” It was my mother, who was speaking frantically; her voice sounding as if they were on the verge of tears. There seemed to be a lot of background noise from the end of her line.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” I furrowed my eyebrows, breathing in. “Why? Everything alright?”

“We were all waiting for you here at Snowpoint Station! We heard about your train crash! You're not bleeding? No bones broken?”

 “I'm not physically injured, if that's what you're worried about...”

“Okay, good.” She breathed a sigh of relief, and I heard her try to straighten herself up. “Listen, we're stuck in jail right now.”

My jaw dropped open. “What.”

“The entire family, all of us, are stuck in jail. There was a riot here at Snowpoint Station. Some families grew angry and violent because they were worried their own loved ones had died on what they called a train crash, the last express to Snowpoint, your train. The station staff called police enforcement because someone's nose got broken, and then they forced everyone into jail. It didn't matter if we were part of the violence or not. Everyone who was waiting at the Snowpoint Station is stuck in jail right now.”

I was stunned. My mouth was unable to form any words for some time. “Oh my God, Mom—”

“Listen, Cynthia, the officer didn't give me much time to talk with you. I'm only allowed one phone call, and I'm speaking for the entire family. Do you have a place to stay for tonight? Are you still on the train?”

I swallowed, feeling that my mouth was dry. “I do have a place to stay, so I'm not on the train anymore. I'm staying in Aulighte Town. It's fine. I've got this taken care of. Do you have any idea when you'll be out?”

“No, I don't. I'm so sorry honey.” I heard a sniffle from the other end. My mom wasn't afraid to restrain her tears when her emotions welled up. “We'll call you as soon as we're out of this mess. In the meantime, the police confiscated all of our cellphones.”

“I... I can't reach you then?”

If I had been there with my mother, I'd have easily seen her shake her head. “No. If there's an emergency where you need us, the best you can do is contact the Snowpoint Police.” I heard my mom release a shaky sigh. “In the meantime, I have to go now, so please stay safe, okay? I love you Cynthia. We all do.”

“Okay. Love you too, Mom. Tell everyone I love them for me, please,” I said, doing my best to suppress a choke at the back of my throat. “Call me when you can, okay?”

We said our goodbyes, and I hung up.

Steven was the first to break the silence between us. “Will you be alright?”

I nodded weakly. “Yeah, I'll be alright. Let's just move on.”

His expression read curiosity and confusion, but I started walking in an effort to really tell him that we could actually move on. Steven followed, politely saying nothing.

“My entire family is in jail. That's what happened. Now you know.” I was blunt with my words.

Steven shot me an even more curious and confused look than before. “... How?”

I summarized what my mother had told me, and in response, his own expression read kind understanding.

“... I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Well, my day's been pretty crappy so far.” I sighed. “This calls for a pity party, doesn't it?”

Steven seemed to catch on to my unintended sense of humor. “Oh definitely. You're the star of the party, and I can be the host. We'll have a blast serving tears as drinks and giving Kleenix tissues away as free goodies!”

He continued making a show out of it, pretending to hold a microphone and showing me off as the imaginary audience _ooo'd_ and _aahhh'd_ at me. Impressively, Steven got a few giggles out of me. I thought I would find it offensive, but there was something about the way Steven said it that made me laugh. Even if it wasn't much, this little act did cheer me up. It was the first time throughout my day that I felt some relief from another being. Besides, he stopped at a point where enough was enough, and that had he gone too far, I would've ended back to the miserable _Samir's Grill_. It was considerate of him, and I was touched that he knew when not to continue. I was glad that there were still thoughtful people left in this world.

“It's stupid. My entire day has been disastrous,” I said, exasperated once the little show was over. “First, nothing's going to Kanto. There was no way I could've bought a ticket before then because one, I was busy the day before, and two, all the tickets for the days before were already gone. I can't meet my boyfriend. Then, I decide, Okay, Cynthia, let's go to Snowpoint to meet your family. But wait, your express train crashed into snow and now you can't get there! Your family must be worried sick about you! Then a bunch of fans and divas come along and chase after you, and just as you abandon them, you find out your family's in jail. What else is new?”

Steven was sympathetic. “Of course, it's all very saddening. At least you're away from the world now. This is why I chose to hide out here.”

I looked at Steven with a curious smile. “Do you always look at the greener side of the grass?”

“It's my nature!” Steven laughed graciously, though soon, his expression turned pensive. “Well, I try to. That's the only way I tell myself I can live.”

“That's nice,” I commented, and then, out of my own idiocy, I made the backhanded comment: “Your girlfriend must love that!”           

Can I just say, I'm not usually _this_ stupid. I can come up with a bunch of reasons why I did that: a, I was still a little bit, just _a little bit_ angry at the world, needed to take the anger out on someone (Steven was the only one there), thus I was not thinking clearly, b, I had the growing superstition that Steven was subtly trying to take me away from Lance, which was _not_ what I needed to my day-gone-wrong, and c, the day had run away from me so many times; I notwithstanding being aware that every time I had tried to take charge of the day, I was plunged into the waters of humiliation and embarrassment, but I tried once more to raise my non-existent sense of self-dignity.

Can I just say, I'm not usually _this_ stupid. I can come up with a bunch of reasons why I did that: a, I was still a little bit, just a little bit angry at the world, needed to take the anger out on someone (Steven was the only one there), thus I was not thinking clearly, b, I had the growing superstition that Steven was subtly trying to take me away from Lance, which was not what I needed to my day-gone-wrong, and c, the day had run away from me so many times; I notwithstanding being aware that every time I had tried to take charge of the day, I was plunged into the waters of humiliation and embarrassment, but I tried once more to raise my non-existent sense of self-dignity.

Steven was smarter when he heard my comment. He simply looked at me for a split second, his eyes reading confusion and agitation, darted his head away from where I walked and made larger strides in the snow. All humor and fun between us evaporated. I wondered if I should have apologized, but it didn't seem worth the effort. It would've been like volunteering to clean up a delicate, glass figurine that you had broken, but ended up breaking another delicate, glass figurine in the process.

Silence suspended between us again for uncounted minutes. By the time he started talking again, we had arrived at the edge of Aulighte Town. Around us, I saw tall, skinny, bare trees increase in frequency. Steven's home, I had concluded, was closer to the primeval forest than it was to Aulighte. (Much of Northern Sinnoh, especially around Aulighte Town, was not touched by humanity by any means for industrial purposes; it was one of the most well-preserved natural landscapes around the world.) He must have really wanted isolation when he said he wanted to hide away from the world.

Steven stopped walking, putting out his arm. I looked at him in question.

“From here, my house is about nine-hundred meters.” Steven breathed. “We need to be careful right around here, though. There's a little river in front of us, about a meter and a half deep. There is ice on top of it, but I don't know how thick it is.”

I strained my eyes to see if I could make out the river. All I saw was the snow gently sloping downwardly, and then sloping back up. I shifted my head back and forth from the direction we came from to the direction of his home. “It doesn't look like there's a way around it. This is the only path, isn't it?”

“Unfortunately,” Steven said. “I recommend you toss your duffel across the river to the other side so the weight of it doesn't help crush the ice.”

“Sounds good to me.” At this, I tossed my duffel and my shoulder bag to the other side of the stream. My phone slipped out of my coat pocket inadvertently after throwing my shoulder bag to the other side, and I hastened to grab it.

My face must have made another expression of disappointment when I glanced at the screen; Steven was smiling curiously.

“No call?”

“I— I was just checking on the time!” I lied, but then gave into his question. “No.”

“Does he know about everything so far?”

“Everything, meaning what happened to me, _yes_. I tell him _everything_.”

“Even the fact that your family is in jail?”

“... Fine. Not everything. That was because me finding that out was recent, only a few minutes ago. I— I planned on telling him once we got to your place anyway.”

Steven shifted his head to his side, and I saw that his smile had grown wider. This must have been extremely amusing to him.

“Does he tell you everything, then?

“What?”

“You said you tell him everything, or eventually, you tell him everything. Does he tell you everything?”

I gave him a questioning look. “Why would you ask that? Of course he does.”

He shrugged casually. “You didn't say we tell each other everything. I just wanted to know. I don't know Lance too well myself.”

"Yeah, well, it's Lance. He doesn't open up to many people anyway. He's Lance. Smart. Intelligent. Strong. Good-looking. Naturally talented. Popular. Even multi-talented in many fields besides battling. Has the most amazing win-streak ever.”

I might as well have been selling Lance to someone. I sounded like a sales representative trying to sell him off to some desperate fangirl. Then again, how else was I supposed to describe him? Everyone knew Lance. That was just who he was. There was nothing more and nothing less to him.

“That's it? I expected more, especially knowing that you're _his_ girlfriend.” Steven was very unimpressed, and I knew he was trying not to burst out chuckling.

“Well, what else is there to know about him?”

“That's how everyone knows him, but I would think that you know his secrets. You’re his girlfriend. Does he have a knack for painting? Does he secretly love to dance? Is he funny, like you? What is he _really_ like?”

I was undoubtedly annoyed at this point — but I do admit, I was flattered Steven had said I was funny. It was nice to see someone else appreciating my weird sense of humor. Frankly speaking, Lance appeared only somewhat amused by my sense of humor. When I had too much fun with my unusual humor, though, he looked tired of hearing my pathetic jokes. I usually forced myself to shut up then.

But I didn't have an answer to Steven's question. I didn't even know the answer, so he wasn’t going to get one. (Lance didn't have a sense of humor, in case you were wondering. He didn’t have a knack for painting or a secret love for dancing either. He was too serious of a guy most of the time to seem like he could enjoy any kind of leisurely arts.) In response, I said nothing and began walking my way across the frozen river. I heard Steven beginning to follow behind me.

It wasn't easy beginning to walk across. For starters, I couldn't tell where exactly the river began; all I could do was estimate. The air was still thick with snow and the winds had started picking up their intensity again, whistling in the distance. My boots seemed on the verge of giving way to the cold snow, and my thighs were frigid at this point, the wind and snow easily permeating through my jeans. My hands were stinging even though I had on snow-proof gloves. I felt as if I couldn't tell cold from hot any longer. It was truly one of the worst, if not, the worst Sinnoh winter I had experienced.

When I saw that we were halfway across the frozen river, we were both treading slowly. Underneath us, we felt something mildly slippery, a contrast to the dense, crunchy snow. Here, Steven decided to start talking again.

“You know, there's probably an ecstatic party back at the Grill. It's gotta be the best night ever for all of the guys.”

I assumed he was talking about Samir's Grill. Never mind that, there was something in his voice that was taunting me to respond, like he was daring me to bite it. Of course, I bit it.

“There's something very unsettling about what you're saying.”

I heard Steven smirk.

“Seriously? The best night ever for all the guys? From what?” I resisted the urge to glance at him. I had lost some of my balance as I continued trudging across the frozen river. I didn't need to slip.

“There are twenty coordinator-divas stuck in the place. Did you see the guys?”

I remembered Dan, with his bored expression swiftly metamorphosing into delightful lust. Then, I remembered the throng of other teenage boys raving after the divas.

“You needed to make that remark because?” I demanded. And, really? He had counted how many divas there were? (Yes, I counted too, but Steven's a _guy_. Why was he counting?)

Steven laughed now, trying his best not to slip. With me throwing a fit, I must have been making his night.

“Am I back in some clichéd, sexist high-school situation now?” I stopped walking and faced Steven, my voice aggressive. He slipped on the ice lightly, but held himself against the thick snow. “What kind of arrogant thinking is this? Do guys just believe that if they're the only ones there, girls will worship them by making out with them and throwing themselves to them? Just because of a snowstorm like this, it's caused some apocalypse of good-looking guys and that girls need to resort to other guys even if they're ugly because they're all so desperately pathetic for male attention?”

“Isn't that what happens?” His response was casual, indifferent to my tirade.

I was ready to kick him where it _hurt_.

“What's wrong with coordinator divas?” he asked. I could tell from hearing his voice he was having boatloads of fun, delighted at my pain. Sadist.

“Oh, in general, they're _fine_.”

“In what sense?”

“I normally don't _care_ for them, okay?”

“You don't mean that.”

“Divas are divas! Some of them are genuinely nice and modest people! But a lot of them are extremely immature, and while they might work hard with their pokémon and win contests or whatever the hell they do, their thinking is also completely backward! And it's always the girls! They work on their appeal to get as many guys as they want and they pick which one they like most! Is that their only purpose in life? Selfish sex appeal?”

“That's quite judgmental of you.”

“Deal with it! This is why I said _I don't care_!”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far. You're assuming too much.” Steven's tone was cool. “I think you're prejudiced against them.”

“So what if I am? That's just the truth!”

“You don't know if they actually do commit time to good deeds. Some of them volunteer for community service. Some of them help take care of pokémon in pokémon daycares. Some of them work in pokémon centers.”

“None of them choose to do that.”

“You don't know that.” Steven wouldn't stop.

“Lance gets this. We had this discussion once and he totally understood me. He _gets it_.”

“News flash, Cynthia.” Steven's tone was nonchalant. “I don't think Lance is great. At all.”

I stomped the ground uncontrollably below me. “I've had it. Steven Stone, _it was nice to see you again_.”

I stomped again, ready to head back from where I had come from, but this time, I paused. A small but distinct cracking noise emanated from the surface below us. There followed multiple snaps of breaking ice, and Steven grabbed my arm before I could go any further.

“Don't—”

And then, the ice below us collapsed.


	6. Chapter 6

If you are ever angry, and I mean _boiling-hot_ , _ready-to-erupt_ _angry_ , for any reason in the middle of a winter night, I encourage you to go out to the wilderness, find a frozen stream and stomp on it as hard as you can. You'll fall down into the freezing waters. Then you'll know what it means to _chill_.

When you _chill_ , you suddenly become aware just exactly how reckless you were. I know I did. That's not all though; the rest of your body shuts down, unable to move, and all your brain is thinking about is how excruciatingly ice-cold it is everywhere. There's an emergency alarm that goes off in your head blaring, “COLD COLD COLD COLD COLD SO COLD I CAN'T MOVE!!!” so you're pretty much useless at the moment. That, my friend, is what it means to _chill_ when you're pissed off to any degree.

Steven and I were stunned with coldness; we were both frigid to the bone. After I recovered slightly, I finally processed what was happening: the water was not deep, so we weren't drowning. It came up to my neck, while it only came up to Steven's upper half of his chest. Alas, we were practically cemented to the river waters, the cold making us move more slowly than an aged torkoal. It seemed impossible for us to get out.

As quickly as I could potentially go, I took hold of Steven's arm in the water. “H-how are we going t-to get out?” I meant to yell at him, but the lack of air in my lungs made it sound like an angry glameow's hiss.

He was shivering, badly. “I-I'll lift you up f-first to the th-thicker ice. H-help me b-break the thinner ice.”

At least Steven was thinking; I was still too caught up in my own agony to figure a way out. We moved toward the same direction, the other side of the river, doing our best to crack the ice with our arms. It would have helped to call out our Pokemon, but under current circumstances, I didn't want my Pokemon freezing to death, and it would have been difficult to reach them from behind my belt anyway. Steven, I assumed, was thinking the same.

“H-here.” Steven pulled me in the water closer to the edge of the ice. “Jump up i-in the water. I-I'll lift you up.”

I tried doing what he said, forcing my feet to push me up from the bottom of the river while trying to hold a solid grip with one hand up on the ice. I wasn't successful the first time, and it took me multiple tries for me to jump within the water high enough so that Steven could grab my waist to help me out. I nearly fell back in the river a couple of times, but I was persistent in my determination to escape the cold waters.

After landing clumsily, I turned back around to help pull Steven out. He landed flat on the ice, and we sat there for some time, breathing in freezing winter air.

We were out.

“D-Dammit,” I muttered, doing my best to stand up. Steven did the same, but he seemed to have a better balance than me first. He caught me with an arm while I was still trying to stand properly, preventing me from taking another involuntary dive to the river waters.

“We're... c-close...” Steven said as I weakly started for the other side of the river. “J-Jus... a little... fur...ther...”

I crudely threw my duffel and shoulder bag across my shoulder, my legs wobbling as I kept proceeding in the snow. My breath was awkwardly crass and shaky, my eyes stinging with the blowing winds and relentless snowflakes. Soon, as I continued walking, I made multiple stops, feeling ready to give into the blizzard. Steven noticed, and he grabbed me, pulling the both of us closer to the direction of his house. If he hadn't dragged me, I didn't know if I could ever make it out of the snowstorm alive.

It felt like an endless spacetime loop just walking to Steven's house within the persistent weather; as soon as we both saw a faint, dim light illuminating from the distance, I cried out internally of happiness and relief. The last bit of our walk had never been more heavenly, and when we stumbled into his home through his unlocked back door, we were in absolute nirvana. Warmth enveloped the both of us, and I smelled what I thought was piquant, savory soup from the kitchen.

Waiting at the backdoor was an Aron and a Beldum; I guessed they were Steven's pets. They greeted him excitedly, clearly jubilant that their Master had come back from the frightening blizzard outside. Steven greeted them with as much energy as he could, but he wouldn't stop dragging me until we reached another door. Looking in, I saw a bathroom with a shower stall, to which he pressed me into.

“Shower. Now.” Steven breathed. “Talk. Later.”

With that, he exited himself from the bathroom, slamming the door and leaving me alone. Immediately, I dumped my bags to the floor on the side, stripped myself naked of everything I was wearing, stepped into the stall and turned on the water, setting the shower knob to hot. Looking out from behind the glass door, I saw that all of my clothes were completely drenched with water and snow; my pokébelt was placed next to the wall. I reminded myself that I had to feed my pokémon with me later — they hadn't eaten anything since I was at the Twinleaf Hotel this afternoon.

I stayed in the shower for a long time, washing myself for the first minutes (the bathroom was well-equipped with shampoo and soap) and then relaxing as I sat down, leaning my head against the wall. I had filled the bathroom with so much steam that it even began filling the shower stall itself. A couple of times, I felt the water temperature change slightly; I assumed that Steven was taking a shower somewhere else in the house.

Eventually, deciding that I had had enough of water in general, I turned off the shower. I stuck my head out of the shower stall to find towels neatly folded on a towel bar and I grabbed them freely for myself, wrapping them around my hair and body. I was thankful that I had dragged my duffel with me inside, even though it barely gave me enough room to move around comfortably inside the bathroom.

To my surprise, I found that most of my things had survived the weather outside; my clothes were not wet, only retaining some coldness from having spent such a long time outside, and the neatly wrapped gifts I prepared were squashed, but not terribly. Meanwhile, everything in my shoulder bag was still functional. Only my cellphone, which shared the same fate as I had in the river water, was still holding on for its dear life. I probably could make calls with it, but that was as far as it got; everything on my screen was electronically distorted.

I would figure out what to do with everything later, as I knew Steven would eventually help me settle down in his home for the night. I took out some of my clothes — underclothes, PJs, socks and a sweater, quickly putting them on and finishing myself up. Just as I had finished brushing my hair (how I manage my knee-long hair, I don't even know myself — I just manage it and I'm able to live with it without giving myself agony), a gentle tap came from the other side of the door.

“Steven?” I said.

The response was unexpected; I heard an amiable, electric whir instead.

I opened the door, peering out to find Steven's beldum greeting me kindly, floating elegantly at my chest level. On top of it was a steaming mug; it seemed to insist that I take it, moving back and forth to indicate it was for me.

“Oh, thank you,” I said to it. I took a single sip out of the mug, tasting warm, exotic tea.

Beldum didn't seem to be finished; now it seemed to want to tug me along to the direction of the kitchen. Had food been prepared? Was Steven already done taking a shower? How would I take care of my own pokémon?

Nonetheless, I followed it to the kitchen. There was a small table with two seats, each prepared with a large bowl of fresh, steaming soup and what looked like leftovers from some other meal before. I heard a happy yipping coming from behind me soon after; Aron had joined and greeted me as well.

Seeing the food made my stomach rumble. At this, Beldum was lightly pushing me to the table. I sat down at one end, half-ready to dig into the food, though I was curious where Steven was. It felt improper to begin eating without him, but I was still raging over the fact that he was the one who provoked me into making the both of us sink into the cold, river waters.

I turned to both Beldum and Aron. “Is Steven still in the shower?”

Aron seemed to comprehend, nodding and barking cheerfully at what I read was a yes. Meanwhile, Beldum had begun using telekineses as he lifted up Steven's mug from the table. I sat there, astonished momentarily — Beldum, by nature, only knew Take Down as its only move. Steven must have taught it telekineses, I concluded.

Eventually, after having begun drinking my soup, which was another unfamiliar but delicious nourishment, I heard Steven walking down the stairs from above. When he came into the kitchen, I saw that he, like me, was dressed warmly and comfortably, wearing what appeared to be an oversized sweater with plaid pajama bottoms. He looked excessively weary; at the same time, I could sense an overwhelming amount of gratitude emanating from him. Whatever former ego I saw from him before, it had all gone now in the present.

Besides, he was actually very... handsome. It wasn't like outside, where the dark sky and snowstorm had obscured a lot of my vision, or Samir's Grill, where the lighting wasn't the brightest or the most clear-cut in making out someone's distinguishing features... It was in the comfort of his own home, where the calm, fair lighting modestly accented his richly ethereal blue-green eyes, his currently-messy, silver hair, and his well-defined, attractive jawline...

I resumed eating to avoid staring at him any longer, giving him a natural hello. He greeted me in return, and began eating with me. His Beldum droned warmly, as if satisfied that the both of us were at the table eating. It buzzed away, heading away swiftly elsewhere, and returned with a pile of blankets stacked atop itself.

“It means for us to take the blankets. Probably noticed that we're still cold,” Steven said with a genuine and hospitable smile, noticing my confusion. “You go first.”

I thanked it again, graciously taking one and draping it around myself. Steven did the same, patting Beldum's head in appreciation afterwards.

I sighed, feeling inexorably exhausted as I resumed eating. Yet, I was finally, blissfully grateful for one thing: after going through a long, tempestuous day, I had at last found temporary peace.

 


	7. Chapter 7

For the next few moments, we ate our meals in silence, simply content to be eating good, homemade food. I had a flood of questions in my head at this point, but I ate first, realizing that I'd have to take care of myself before doing anything else first.

“The soup is really delicious,” I began when I was nearly finished eating what had been on my plate. “It's definitely out of this world... And the tea as well. Everything here was really good.”

“I was experimenting with different foods,” Steven explained. “It's actually something I've been doing ever since I've isolated myself here. Trying to come up with various kinds of eccentric cuisines.”

“You're an amateur chef?”

“You could call me that.”

I looked around the kitchen, noticing how well-kept the entire space was. The granite countertops were immaculately polished, the sink was free of any stained dishes, and the kitchen cabinets made of dark chestnut wood were tidily lined next to each other. I was surprised at its orderliness.

“Of course, I have help from my Beldum and Aron often. For example, when I'm out, Beldum helps make sure the soup stays cooking in the Crock-Pot for as long as it needs to be cooked. In the summer, Aron used to go out collecting wild Berries. Without them, I wouldn't survive alone like this.”

I became softhearted hearing this; I hadn't expected to see Steven displaying his gratitude this openly. Of course, he was a Master Champion; each and every one of us as a Champion were in huge debt to our Pokemon. Somehow, though, seeing Steven show his appreciation was moving on its own.

“In essence, they're sort of like your caretakers,” I said, smiling slightly now.

“You noticed by now that this particular beldum knows telekinesis, didn't you?” Steven indicated to Beldum, quietly whirring as it watched its Master at a distance.

“Yeah, how does it...”

“That was how we met actually. I was with my metagross out this summer, near the Mount Coronet range, trying to develop some of its psychic powers in different ways. Then, this little guy came along and started training along beside us. It was able to master telekineses pretty quickly.” Steven chuckled now, smiling to the beldum. “It refused to go back to where it came from, though. It seemed adamant on joining me and Metagross, so I ended up taking it as one of my own Pokemon. There's a lot of promise in that little guy.”

“Ah.”

“On the other hand,” here, Steven pointed to Aron, who was cheerfully eating away his own bowl of food set on the ground next to the kitchen wall, “This little one hatched from an egg I was given this year in midsummer. I'm not sure where it was from, but the guy who gave it to me from Aulighte said it had come a long way from some faraway region.”

My smile grew wider; hearing Steven's story was quite touching.

“I have to say, the Sinnoh region is perpetually mysterious. Six months living here on my own, I still can't understand this region. The electromagnetic fields are highly unusual. My metagross in particular gains far more power here than it usually does compared to the rest of the other regions in the world, including my native Hoenn. It's allowed a new challenge for me.” Steven took a sip of his tea.

I nodded, moving my eyes away from his to focus on my food. “You're telling me. I was born and raised here, and there are age-old questions that still baffle my grandmother even. It's not easy to tackle the enigmas of this region. No matter how much time I devote my spare time to researching everything I can about Sinnoh, I feel as though I can't contribute anything that's revolutionary and valid.”

“At the same time, I love the tranquility here,” Steven went on. “Even the cities here have their own quiet air.”

“Excluding Veilstone, Jubilife, Sunyshore, and Hearthome,” I remarked. “Those are the only cities that get a lot of attention worldwide. Sure, there might be an episode on TV about Floaroma, or a special about Pastoria. But it's mainly the first four: Veilstone for its casinos, Jubilife because it's our capitol city, Sunyshore for its innovative technology, and Hearthome for its fashion and contests. It's a sister city to Lumiose, after all.”

Steven cocked his head to the side at my mention of Hearthome, looking somewhat conflicted. I looked at him curiously, wondering what I had stirred inside him.

Then, he laughed awkwardly, pressing his forehead into a hand as he leaned into the table.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, trying to clear away the apparent awkwardness.

“Oh, it's nothing.” Steven brushed the subject off, lightly tapping the table with his knuckle again. It was as if he had grown used to my strange sense of humor. “Don't worry about it.”

There was definitely something bothering him about it — it looked like he could talk about it all day until the miltank came home. Yet, I felt that perhaps it gave him distress all the while, so it wasn't an easy subject to alter into.

Up to now, the both of us had finished eating. I mentioned to Steven about my Pokemon whom I had taken along, and he told me he'd prepare food for them in the basement within a few minutes. We both stood, starting our next line of tasks.

“You'll be staying downstairs in the living room,” Steven said, pointing to its direction. “I'll help get you set up there.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

The next few moments consisted of the two of us doing our own housework. I removed all of my things from the bathroom, putting my wet clothes and shoes in a basket (Beldum had conveniently sided up to me, insisting on bringing the basket to the laundry room for me). After, I took my Pokebelt and walked around to find the basement. Soon I was walking down a set of stairs from a door that led to a pleasingly remodeled basement, completed with a carpeted floor and bright lighting; Steven was waiting with prepared food. When I withdrew everyone from their Pokeballs — Garchomp, Togekiss, Glaceon and Lucario — I gave them a short summary of what had happened, and they were rather agreeable, not minding what had happened. (It was a sharp contrast to me in comparison, where I had flipped out at my ruined schedule earlier in the day.) Lucario especially seemed to be happy to see Steven once again, running over to him merrily as Steven patted him on the head; they had met on more than one occasion, and my Lucario developed a special liking to the steel-type specialist. Soon, when they had finished eating, I withdrew them back into their Pokeballs, promising them that I'd let them outside once the snowstorm had calmed down.

Coming back to the living room, I took full notice of the surroundings. Steven's house was completely devoid of Christmas or holiday decorations; he probably didn't care much about the holiday season. It was refreshing to see that there were people who truly didn't give a second thought about it, especially when my own holiday season was wrecked. I didn't need to be reminded that my holiday season this year was forever sabotaged.

The living room appeared to be an extension of the library, to which there was another entrance leading to a dark room with shelves bordering the walls. The first thing I instantly noticed in the living room was the black baby grand piano — a Steinway — placed next to the window, covered with an old curtain fabric to prevent the dust from building up. To one corner, I saw a pile of piano books, the very top reading _Chopin: Piano_ _Impromptus_. Next to it were some pencils scattered loosely.

I wondered momentarily if Steven played the piano as well, or studied, it, as I had; it reminded me that I hadn't touched the piano in months. I had been so caught up in my own, tangled life that I couldn't really remember the last time I sat down and gave some time to myself.

To give you a rundown: ever since I was young, I had studied classical piano. While I always had potential talent to develop for the piano, my passion for battling was stronger, thus I pursued it while continuing to study piano whenever time allowed it. In general, I loved classical music, as listening to classical music was similar to studying philosophy, to studying literature, to studying ancient history. There was a parallel complexity in classical music unrivaled by every other musical genre out there, I had concluded, because its own sophistication and complicatedness was astonishing, always refocusing itself to amazingly confuse the human mind. There was no other musical genre in the world like classical music.

My curiosity got the better of me; I opened to the first page of the _Chopin: Impromptus_ , and then continued flipping, finding occasional pencil marks written here and there. Some of the notes looked hesitant, with question marks marked lightly against the paper. I was almost tempted to play the second impromptu, but I was stopped short before I could think over it any further.

“I see you're at the piano,” Steven said, entering the living room with a bundle of blankets and pillows, dumping them on the sofa. “You play piano, right?”

“It's a hobby,” I said, looking up to him in greeting.

“I'm guessing you're pretty good at it.”

I shrugged. “I don't know what you consider good. It's been a while since I've practiced. My life's been so busy, I can't quite remember when I exactly sat down at my own piano in my home.”

“What's the hardest piece you've played?”

I struggled to find the answer. “That's a difficult question. Technically, the hardest I learned was Chopin's E minor piano concerto. Emotionally, Beethoven's opus 110 piano sonata.”

Steven's eyes widened, apparently impressed by my response. He rubbed his head, as if he had been confronted with a difficult philosophical question.

“Like I said, though, I haven't touched the piano in months. I don't even have high expectations of myself now. I played that when I was much younger anyway.”

“You're free to play it now, if you'd like.”

I closed the _Chopin: Impromptus_. “I'll pass. It's been a long day. I just want to sleep at this point.”

Steven smiled, but he didn't press me any further into playing the piano, to which I was surprisingly grateful he didn't do. I still had some interested thoughts, so I proceeded asking him a couple of questions.

“Was there any reason why you started learning?”

“It was for my own curiosity,” he said, helping set up the blankets and pillows on the sofa. “It's one of my other things that I decided to try when I isolated myself here.”

I nodded once, finding his answer satisfactory.

“Still, it's pretty incredible that you could play those pieces.”

“What, the Chopin and the Beethoven?”

“Yeah. Who knew that one of the Master Champions of the world had a secret talent for piano, playing pieces that professional pianists perform?”

“I think it's a little... sad.”

“Sad? In what way?”

I sighed. “I suppose since no one else I know appreciates my playing as much as I would hope they do, it gets scuffled under into the dust disregarded. Essentially, no one... cares.”

Steven made a confused face, which somehow made me laugh. “You shouldn't dismiss it.”

I sighed, finishing my last laugh. “If only that advice were easy to take.”

I wish I hadn't sounded so pessimistic then. I wasn't too sure of why I was giving myself this discouraging attitude, but it didn't take me long to figure out why I felt the way I did: I felt that no one cared about me playing piano because Lance didn't care about me playing piano. In that one second, I realized that within the one year I had dated him, he never cared at all. He only cared for its image, and just then I had suddenly remembered how he'd bragged about this point in an interview one time during the course of our dating. It only struck me now how detrimental this kind of behavior was.

Of course, I kept this to myself. Steven didn't need to know about it, because if he did, I got the feeling he'd badger me about it. I didn't need to explode again.

“Sorry,” I said again, “I think I really need to sleep. Otherwise, I'll get crabbier.”

He shrugged, not bothered by my words, oblivious to the thoughts in my head. “Sleep is a good idea. So, these sheets and pillows are for you. If there's anything else...”

“I think I'm good now,” I said. “There's nothing else I need.”

There was a quick silence, but I smothered it before it could get any more awkward.

“Thanks for letting me stay. I really appreciate it. It's really nice of you to let me stay here.”

“Don't worry about it. It's the least I can do.”

Another awkward moment of silence seemed to threaten us, but Steven walked out of the living room near the light switch, ready to turn it off as soon as I settled into the blankets and pillows on the sofa. But even after I had finished settling in and acknowledged he could turn it off with a quiet nod, Steven turned around one more time, facing me from his side.

“Hey,” he began, “I'm sorry I was a jerk earlier, when we were walking. I was...”

I waved his apology away with a hand. “We were both cranky, in a bad mood, so no worries. I'm sorry as well. Whatever I did...”

We both felt like there was something more to say, though neither of us said anything more than we had. The awkward silence had extended.

Thankfully, Steven nodded finally and turned off the light, ready to head upstairs to his own room.

“Merry Christmas,” he added, before vanishing upstairs.

Hearing this, I felt I had been hit straight to my chest; I wanted to cry. I felt hot tears start filling up around my eyes, and I realized how much I had missed my family and Lance. Steven had done everything he could to help me, and I was grateful, but he wasn't my boyfriend. I thought I would fall asleep crying to myself, but I ended up laying there for a couple of hours, hearing some grandfather clock tick from the library.

My eyes having adjusted to the darkness, I dug for my phone, which I had thrown somewhere in my duffel. I struggled with it temporarily to see if it was still alive; it gave me some signs of life. Feeling a little more confident, I dialed Lance's number. It rang a few times, six or seven rings, before he picked up. When he did pick up, he sounded tired and drained of energy.

“Cynthia.” His voice was throaty, “It's three in the morning. What is it?”

“I left you a voice message earlier tonight,” I said, trying to hide any sound of hurt feelings in my voice as I sat back on the sofa. “Did you listen to it?”

“Wha? Oh, yeah. I listened to it.” Lance yawned. “Sorry about that. I was busy. You know. Saffron Christmas Gala and everything. Can we talk tomorrow? I'll call you after I do the Christmas Gift Extravaganza tomorrow morning, okay?”

I was quiet for some time. Did he not care where I was at the moment? Did he forget that my train had crashed on the way to Snowpoint, leaving me stranded in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere? I had so much more to tell him anyway — I fell into a freezing river, Steven was gracious enough to let me stay at his place, and my entire family, who had been patiently waiting for me at the Snowpoint Station, was now in jail.

At the same time, I realized he had a long day, a bunch of long days, and that his job as being Host of the Saffron Christmas Gala was far from over. He couldn't sympathize with me, let alone listen, to my story when he was trying to keep awake from the other line. Telling him my story wasn't worth the effort now. It would be a complete waste of time.

“Okay,” I said finally. “Tomorrow, then.”

That was when I heard light snoring from the other end of the line. I hung up, realizing he had fallen asleep during our phone conversation, and threw my phone to the ground as if I gave up.

There were days, I admit, where I questioned to myself if my reasons to date Lance were genuine. I often tried to go under the illusion that we completely understood each other, but there was always the nagging voice inside me saying that he was using me for something else instead of for a true romantic purpose. If anything, there were times I even thought he dated me for the sole reason of image, like he was trying to better his image to the entire face of the world by saying, “Look at me! The beautiful blonde, the Master Champion of Sinnoh, the intelligent historian-scholar-scientist-pianist-whatnot, the one and only Cynthia, is _my_ girlfriend! She's the only one good enough for me, for my limited time that I have in my ever-busy schedule, who understands _my_ pain that no one else in the world understands!” It was all a part of his master plan to illuminate himself... but not me. There seemed to be nothing I gained from the relationship; if I gained anything, it was the feeling of loneliness and feeling myself slowly... deteriorating... away...

I shook my head, refusing to believe my thoughts. It was three in the morning. I wasn't thinking properly. I had been swung into a day of unbelievable happenings, so of course my sense of logic was irrational. Those negative thoughts were just a way of externalizing the pressure I had experienced throughout the day. If I slept, I would feel completely restored tomorrow. Yes, that was all I needed. I would be able to think properly after a good night's sleep for tomorrow.

I settled back into the sofa again, closing my eyes and turning my head inwardly. Only now, I was able to fall asleep far more easily, my head spinning around until I had begun sleeping.

That night, I dreamed of Steven's exotic soup and piano music.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Morning came when an overly-happy and overly-hyper Aron dived onto my stomach like the start of the Olympian Swimming Challenge. I gave out a stifled choking noise as I felt the air burst out from my eye sockets. Aron might as well have been an über-excited five-year-old on Christmas morning.

Wait. It _was_ Christmas morning.

No wonder.

The aron kept bouncing on me as if I were some trampoline, barking and yapping every second as if I was never going to wake up.

“Aron! Stop jumping on her! She's sleeping!”

This was easily Steven's voice.

When I fully opened my eyes, I saw that Steven's Beldum was patiently floating along close to me, watching the entire scene with its unblinking eye. Steven came into the living room soon after, his nightwear removed and day clothes on, stirring what I smelled was an inviting cup of coffee as he stood by the entrance. Aron jumped off of me, joining Steven near his feet.

How long had they been watching me sleep? I wondered if I looked like one of those ridiculous cartoon characters with preposterously frizzy hair and baggy eyes. If they laughed at me because of how I looked, I might as well have joined the circus clowns for my hilarious appearance. Then again, a part of me was creeped out that these guys had seen me sleep in general, something that I would label as stalker behavior. But, as life has it for me, I can sleep like a rock. I once slept through an entire chain of self-set alarms (alarms that sounded like _loud_ fire alarms) on my phone. I slept through all of them. I think I missed an appointment that day. (That was the only time. Still.)

“Good morning to you too, Steven,” I remarked, perhaps a little crudely. I sat up on the sofa, rubbing my eyes with an arm.

Steven smiled. “Well, then, now that you're awake, do you want to get yourself ready for breakfast? I'll go back in the kitchen to prepare something.”

“Sure.” I threw the blankets off myself, heading straight for the bathroom. Ordinarily, I would have taken much more consideration into my appearance; now, I just didn't care. My hair could not quite get tamed, so I gave up after a while of uselessly brushing out my persistent knots, and my skin was still fairly dry from last night in spite of the lotion I had just put on. I came into the bathroom looking like a mess, and I probably came out of the bathroom just the same.

“Do you want to call your family? Wish them any happy holidays?” Steven asked as I entered the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.

“That's going to be hard, considering that they're wasting away in jail and all...” I frowned at my grim humor. Wasting away. Hah.

“No worries. I'll look up the Snowpoint Police number for you. Then you can call.”

I eyed Steven suspiciously. “You seem... awfully chipper.”

He eyed me back with an unusual smile, finalizing what seemed to be my breakfast by putting toast on the plate. “You're the guest of the house.”

Steven placed the plate on the table (prepared with coffee and orange juice) and proceeded to walk out. “I'll be back with the number.”

I began munching on my breakfast, and halfway through, Steven walked back, his cellphone in hand up near his ear. He seemed to be having a rather vehement argument with the person on the other line, insisting quite forcefully that he give one of my family members the phone for me to talk to. The situation felt a little like a medieval knight serving his fair lady; in this case, he was trying to obtain the approval of a guard to let her talk to an imprisoned loved one. I wasn't sure if I liked that... at all. If anything, it was flat out unflattering.

“Officer, I _insist_ that you—“

It must have been the hundredth time Steven had used the word _insist_ , so it was no wonder the officer on the other end was clearly fed up with Steven's tenacity.

“Here you go,” Steven mouthed, handing me the phone. I took it, putting it hesitantly to my ear.

“Hello?” I began.

“Cynthia!” My mother was on the other line again, her voice high-pitched and concerned. “How are you doing now?”

“I'm managing. I'm fine, actually.”

“You're still near Aulighte, aren't you? Where did you stay for the night? And what about the train?”

“I'm staying with... reasonable people.” I looked up, seeing if Steven was anywhere near me. If he heard me, I didn't care. _Reasonable_ was the only compliment he was getting. “Steven Stone. You know him, Mom. As for the train, I don't know.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, Steven Stone posed no imminent danger. (Whereas he did to me, that would mean.) At this, I brushed him away from our conversation, and said my next statements with a little more aggressiveness than intended.

“Mom, the real question is, when are you getting out of jail? They can't let you all rot in there for the rest of the day!”

I heard my mother frown over the phone. She sighed, upset that her own daughter had ended up worrying about her when it should have been the other way. “Don't worry, we're going to be released soon. Just a little longer in... here and we're all out. I'm so sorry...”

“Don't focus on me, Mom. Just... I hope this won't get on your records.” Otherwise, I'd have to do some secret blackmailing to the authorities in Snowpoint. There was no way that my law-abiding family was going to get a tainted public record. (Being a Master Champion had a lot of perks, some which I used to my advantage whenever I saw fit to use it.) The fact that they were in some stuffy jail right now already made me uncomfortable in every level.

“May I talk to Steven, then?” my mom suddenly asked. I knew it was a natural reaction to prevent us from crying to each other over the line, but I also felt my stomach twist unpleasantly when my mom wanted to talk to him.

Steven was out of sight, so I had to call his name. He walked back into the kitchen from an entrance, and I handed the phone to let him know my mom wanted to talk to him.

He seemed very energetic just talking to my mom, reassuring her of all the food and heat he had at his home. What really got me, though, was him saying many nice things that I thought was his exaggerating. Point 1: “She's not a problem to take care of! Besides, this is what the holiday season is about!” Steven, I'm sure I'm my own biggest problem to take care of, so that's gotta cause you some trouble all the while (and seriously, the mention of the holiday season was _not_ needed). Point 2: “Oh, I say she's an absolutely intelligent and polite woman with fine grace! It's my pleasure!” This one really killed the mood, and I tried hard not to burst out laughing with food in my mouth when he said that. Intelligent? Uh-huh. Polite? Yeeaaahh. Fine grace? I'm not an art sculpture. It's his pleasure? _Suuuurrreee._ Everything that had happened to me for the past twenty-four hours suggested the exact opposite of his words. It was more like _dumb, rude,_ _inelegant clumsiness_ _,_ and _a clear pain in the butt._

Nonetheless, Steven resumed chatting along, and I heard my mom's voice go from worry and anxiety to gratitude and alleviation. Near the end of the conversation, he put the phone on speaker so we could both say to my mom goodbye. Her last comment, though, was completely irrelevant.

“Cynthia, our entire family can relax knowing that you're in good hands with Steven! He's quite the charming gentleman, if I dare say so myself!” Here, she giggled.

I facepalmed. The slap to my face was so audible it even shocked myself a bit. “Oh my Ar— Okay. Bye, Mom. I'll call again soon.”

My mom said her final farewell, and then Steven and my mom exchanged their goodbyes. They left on highly unnecessarily good terms.

Then, it hit me: I became aware that Steven had not mentioned a single detail about his family. Or his girlfriend either – he did have one, didn't he? After all, I thought I vaguely heard somewhere that he had a girlfriend. At one point, I knew I heard it; Master Champions were always updated on the lives of each others' because of fame whether we wanted to or not. It didn't make any sense as to why Steven would bother spending the holiday season by himself anyway, unless that was originally part of his plan to isolate himself. Despite that, the thought ate me suddenly, and I thought to myself I'd have to look into what was really going on his life later. The tabloids would have something. They always had something.

Steven, though, didn't pay attention to me or my thoughts. Yes, Steven usually looked upon the world with optimism, as I had recalled from meeting him again last night. It was natural. This morning, though, it appeared anything but, even inorganic. It was as if he was high with happiness.

“Aron and I are going to go out for a bit to check on a little something outside. That means the entire house will be yours. And Beldum's of course. But you're the only human in the vicinity of this place. Thus, it is yours.”

“Steven,” I began very bluntly, and very slowly, “You're leaving me alone. In your house. Alone. I can potentially make off with every single valuable possession you own in this house and leave you broke. Or, I could burn it all in a fire and run away.”

He dismissed what I had said with a simple wave of his hand as he went elsewhere in the house. It looked like he was used to my wryness, as if we had been (you'll love this) married. If my usual tactics weren't working, I'd have to do something else soon. I wasn't going to put up with this act any longer.

“I'll be back soon,” Steven called from what I guessed was the front of the house. His Aron barked jubilantly in reply.

The door shut. I ran straight for my laptop.

“Alright, Steven Stone,” I said assertively, plunging into the keyboard with flying fingers. “Let's see what I can find about _you_.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

I was expecting to find my answers on Google rather smoothly, but as luck would have it, my laptop showed a sad signal connecting to the Internet. I would still get my answers, but it would take a lengthy time getting them; I almost feared that I wouldn't get them in time before Steven came back from wherever he was outside.

I kept tampering around with the mechanics of my laptop to increase its speed; it was specifically designed to connect to the Internet regardless if there was a Wi-Fi network available. The snowstorm was still in effect, I concluded, which was causing the lack of a decent connection; I eventually looked outside to find thick snowflakes still falling down from the sky, albeit more calmly and steadily than before. The wind appeared to die down as well, for the snow fell down gracefully without any trace of moving air.

To top it all off, Steven's home didn't have a Wi-Fi network. A Wi-Fi network would have been nice, as it significantly boosted the speed of the Internet connection. Still, talk about isolation — this guy was adamant about being isolated from the world. The lack of a Wi-Fi network meant his own computers wouldn't be easily hacked into or traceable as opposed to having one. Smart guy for avoiding potential tracking to reveal his location.

“How absolutely wonderful,” I muttered, waiting for the searches to show on the screen, “I try to take charge of the day again and I _still_ can't get any result.”

Just then, I heard a familiar whirring from behind me. Beldum had arrived, holding via telekinesis what appeared to be a rolled-up, tattered magazine. I looked at it with impatient curiosity, wondering what it could mean.

“Sorry, Beldum, I'm trying to—”

The Beldum hadn't let me continue; instead, it practically shoved the magazine in front of my face, rolling out the magazine to expose the cover. Immediately, I saw the figure of a curvy, bossy-looking woman, while in the background, a visibly distressed Steven was covering his face, trying to avoid the paparazzi. In the background, I made out what seemed to be a vague Starbucks logo.

_Oh._

My facial expression suddenly went from total frustration to pure pity in less than a second.

**_It's Over!_ _Ellen Kirsten Cheats Steven Stone!_ _Heartbreaking Affair! Details Inside_ _on First Page_ _!_ **

I found myself taking the tabloid from Beldum's telekinesis. It had been opened many times, perhaps violently on some occasions, as it was evident by the cracked spine and crinkled pages. The first page easily opened before my eyes, and I read the article.

_Star Coordinator-Diva Ellen Kirsten Cheats Hoenn Champion Steven Stone!_

_After a scandalous event in a Starbucks at_ _Hearthome, it was officially confirmed by star coordinator-diva Ellen Kirsten that she and Steven Stone are_ _so over! It's official, they're done!_

 _“He's just, like, too much_ _in general. He always was_ _. I can't deal with such a lame guy like him,” Ellen was quoted_ _saying near the Hearthome Contest Hall_ _the very same night of the scandal._

 _A friend of Ellen, reporting anonymously, also mentioned that since Ellen is also a model, singer, and actress, her schedule has been_ _extremel_ _y busy_ _and that it was difficult to maintain a relationship with the Hoenn Champion._

 _However, there's also been the issue of jealousy! Ellen also claims that Steven was jealous of other men_ _—_

I stopped reading abruptly. I felt that I had looked into too much already, and my moral character had taken over me at this point. I didn't want to look any further, feeling guilty even though I had seen only part of his past.

Quickly soon after, the search results on my laptop appeared. That was when I noticed the date of the apparent breakup: it happened in the last half of June this year, and it made sense that Steven went into isolation not long after... for six months.

By now, Beldum had disappeared. I panicked, not wanting to get caught holding a tabloid magazine once Steven came back. I ran to the foyer of his house, looking out the window: I saw heavy footsteps, presumably his, but I couldn't see him in the distance. That still didn't relieve me, and I felt my paranoia increase.

Just then, Beldum scared me as it tapped my lower left shoulder. I jumped, almost yelping, and saw that it was holding a small white board along with a dry erase marker. With its telekinesis skills, it was beginning to write a sentence.

_You... make... Steven... happy!_

“I... what?”

Beldum was moving around excitedly now, seemingly happy that it had written a sentence and communicated with me through the human language, but also slightly aggressively, as if it had more to tell me. Underneath its first sentence, it wrote:

 _You... healed... Steven... last... night!_ _First time... in a long time... you made Steven very happy!_ _I'm... happy... you made... Master Steven happy!_

My eyes widened: even Beldum was now romanticizing the situation between me and Steven! In spite of and because of Beldum's seemingly limited vocabulary (there's more than one word to describe the emotion of being happy after all), it felt like Beldum was shipping us together!

“Uhm...” I felt my face redden furiously now. “I gotta call Lance! I— I just remembered, haha, yeah, I was going to call him! Even though, he said he would call first...”

By the time I finished speaking, I was already running around the house frantically, shutting off my laptop and grabbing Steven's cellphone. In the corner of my eye, I saw Beldum picking up the tabloid, wrapping it up as it had been wrapped before, and skitter away to some other direction in the house.

Eventually, I made it to the bathroom and locked myself in there. After dialing in Lance's number, I heard multiple rings which made me impatient; I released a sigh when he picked up.

“Who's this?” His tone was cautious.

“Lance!” I exclaimed, trying my best not to be loud. “It's me! I'm—”

“Cynthia!” His cautious tone was all removed, replaced with one of familiarity and business. “Hey, I just finished the Christmas Gift Extravaganza and now I'm going to go in for the Private Christmas Breakfast.”

“Lance, that's great,” I said, though I didn't know if I meant it. I continued, “But, I had a rough night. I mean—”

“Sorry, Cynthia. I'll call you back soon, okay? Merry Christmas!”

There was no “I love you.” No “My holiday is ruined without you.” No “I wish you were here with me.”

I felt my throat tighten. Just how much more emotional turmoil did I need to be thrown in? I resisted the urge to cry; I didn't want to sound like a girlfriend who couldn't cry over their boyfriend who couldn't talk because they were busy. If I sounded clingy, fine, I was clingy. But there had been so much that had happened to me, and I felt it was important for my boyfriend to know.

“Okay Lance. We'll talk later. Merry Christmas to you too.”

* * *

I'm pretty sure I stayed in the bathroom for almost an hour, staring at the wall endlessly as I struggled to comprehend what had happened. I did end up sobbing after hanging up the phone with Lance into a towel, not sure exactly what I was going to do next. Sometime in the middle of me sobbing, Steven must have come home because I heard the piano; he was playing _Let it Snow_.

Haha, let it snow. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow and bury me. Very funny, Steven. You gotta love life.

(Then again, I think I heard Steven call out a “I'm home!” as if he were the husband returning back to his wife from a long, arduous day at work. Only except I was crying out rivers from my eyes, and I had locked myself in a bathroom. So he didn't get the loving reunion he might have originally imagined he was getting. Nice try, Steven.)

I knew I couldn't stay in the bathroom forever, so I made the choice to leave it. I was scared to go out, knowing that I looked even more like a mess now with my tear-ridden face. Still, I braved myself, left Steven's cellphone on the kitchen table, where my unfinished breakfast lay, and crept over to the living room.

His back was faced to me, and for a moment, I didn't want to make any interaction with Steven. I thought about going back to the bathroom and locking myself, but Steven turned around before I could even start. It was alarming enough for me to jerk back slightly, making me temporarily forget about my previous misery.

“Ah, Cynthia! … You look a little...”

“Like an ugly mess? Yeah.”

“Well, I was going to say you look spooked. Did something happen?”

I laughed a little too hard, making myself cough in the process. _Did something happen?_ Well, I found out who your ex-girlfriend was. And that she was the main reason why you isolated yourself in such a small town in northern Sinnoh near the deep wilderness. Oh, and, I called my boyfriend only to be dismissed by him. _Did something happen?_

Steven gave me the same look that he had given me last night at Samir's Grill, exactly when I had rambled on about my story with me having supposed to meet Lance. Likewise, he didn't comment. Instead, he smiled and continued on his optimistic way. For whatever reason, it had calmed down somewhat, so his unnatural happiness was no longer evident.

“I saw that you had locked yourself in the bathroom when I came home, so I left you alone for some time.” His voice was sincere now.

“That's... Um. Actually, what I meant was, thanks.” I brushed away the subject. “Can I try something on the piano?”

Steven stood up from the seat, making an inviting gesture. “Be my guest.”

I sighed, making my way to the grand piano. Placing my hands on random keys, I wondered exactly what I was going to play, so I improvised a little as a warmup. From the side of my eye, I saw Steven sit down on the sofa, moving my blankets and pillows to one side.

And then, I started playing.

 


	10. Chapter 10

I must have melted into the music I was playing; I felt all previous anxieties and emotional confusion disintegrate smoothly away. My breathing became more even and relaxed, and my muscles loosened up. My mind became at ease, and I felt that I was okay, in spite of everything that had happened to me. Of course, that didn't eradicate any of the questions I had in mind, but music could clear minds without erasing the problems you had to deal with in reality. Music made it easier to become more objective whenever you were stuck in an emotional, subjective mess.

When I had finished, Steven offered light but genuine applause. “That was beautiful playing.”

I shrugged, giving him a small smile. “It's not much. Written by a French composer, from Kalos, if I can remember correctly. Just a little waltz that's played as parlor music.”

“It's no wonder your hands looked like they were dancing. It was ballet on the piano keyboard.”

I looked at Steven skeptically; my eye may have twitched. “That almost sounds like it's not a compliment.”

“It's no insult either. You think of yourself as too inferior, if you ask me.”

I looked at Steven carefully. He was still handsome, his silver hair slightly disordered. His facial features all unified into one calm, aesthetic singularity, his deep, enthralling blue-green eyes sparkling now from the light of day. It was a sharp contrast from Lance, who in contrast, had an attractive face for his tenseness and determination that was written everywhere. Lance had no single amazing feature whatsoever that stuck out, in spite of his own handsomeness, but Steven... each and every one of Steven's features was noteworthy, and they all unified to one good-looking face, but it was his eyes that could really win over hearts.

It was now that I realized Lance, in comparison, seemed to try too hard to be the archetypal hero. He always showed off his cape as if it were his proud signature while slicking back his hair with too much gel, all to come off as the shounen figure both fangirls and fanboys admired. His supposed jumpsuit helped enhance that image. Steven just didn't care; he was true to himself and his style. Even more so, I found myself liking Steven's taste in style far more... His fashion sense was far more intelligent and modern, traces of classicality and neatness embedded in, with his crisp suit and elegant metal bands and rings. Something like Steven's outfit would have been too liberal for Lance.

In any case, I shook my head to brush away my thoughts. I resumed staring back at the piano keyboard, wondering if I was going to continue.

“Keep playing,” Steven encouraged, standing up. “I like hearing you play. I'm going to head over to the kitchen to continue making gingerbread cookies.”

My ears perked and turned towards Steven. “... Gingerbread cookies?”

Steven nodded with a smile. “That was why I went outside earlier. I was collecting a special kind of Liechi berry, the ones that thrive during wintertime.”

I tried to hide my bothered expression by turning back to the piano. I suddenly remembered that my first kiss with Lance tasted like gingerbread cookies. And that I had bought gingerbread cookies on the express to Snowpoint, but that I had never even gotten the opportunity to open them.

“Okay,” I replied. “That's fine.”

This time, I resumed something random on the piano. I felt Steven look at me curiously, but he continued walking on his way to the kitchen. I wondered for just a moment if I could play piano for the whole day by myself. After all, Steven would just have to listen and he'd wouldn't mind it, I was sure; I was just as likely to enjoy myself from the music I played. Of course, the plan could backfire magnificently and draw us together even more. Which was something I wasn't too sure if I was ready to do.

The sounds of rather cheerful chatter between Steven, Beldum and Aron came from the kitchen, and it sounded a little too complicated for baking gingerbread cookies. Steven was saying, “Now we have to turn the bowl upside down and spin it around...”

I might have paused playing the piano momentarily, for I felt myself smile a little at the oddity of Steven's behavior.

Still, I had to wonder as I resumed my playing: Who exactly was this Ellen Kirsten? I might have heard her name elsewhere from some time, but it didn't answer anything about her. Yes, she was Steven's ex, a coordinator-diva, and she embodied the epitome of what I detested the most. I found it surprising that she was once his girlfriend, and I thought of questioning Steven about her. After all, he had practically attacked me about Lance, so it only seemed fair to do the same to him.

But then, I realized Steven had always flinched away the subject when I brought up his girlfriend... and Hearthome City from our conversation last night when we ate. It would seem cruel if I grilled him about Ellen.

 _Wait._ I thought suddenly. _Since when did I care so much about Steven? This isn't any of my business to start with! After all, the fact that Steven hasn't shared a single detail about his ex-girlfriend, not even revealing me her name, just means that he's keeping the pain to himself. That meant he didn't want to establish any emotional connection with me whatsoever. If he did, he'd blabber on about it to me anyway! After all, we're_ just _friends...!_

I didn't hear Steven come back from the kitchen, so when he called out my name, I jumped a little and accidentally played a dissonant chord on the piano.

“Ouch.” The chord must have been loud, since Steven was making a slightly shocked face. Still, he seemed to regard me ever so cautiously. “I was going to ask a question.”

“Um. Sure.” I became even more wary, wondering what he would ask me.

 _Please don't ask me if I secretly looked into that tabloid that was writing about your breakup with your ex... please don't please don't please don't_ _—_

“Well, I was curious, so I was wondering if you...”

_No. No no no no no._

“Would you teach me piano right now? Just a bit.”

I breathed out in relief, almost about to rest my head on the top of the piano. Teaching piano to someone else was usually something I never liked to do in general... but now, it was the most welcome, glorious thing in the world. Teaching someone else piano was a dream come true. Literally. It had saved my butt from having my secret exposed to Steven, after all.

“Oh. That. I'll try, but I can't guarantee I'll make an effective teacher.”

Steven smiled. “I'm sure you're not bad. Your playing is very lovely.”

“Don't count on it. Lovely playing does not equate to effective teaching.”

He sighed, vexed. “I don't understand why you seem so negative about yourself and your abilities. You're not like this when you're battling opponents, are you? I expect more from a formidable Master Champion like you.”

I was shocked. “N-No. It's just...” I sighed hurriedly. “It's just... I've been underestimating myself on a lot of things lately. But battling is not one of them.”

“Like what?”

“Like...”

I didn't know. For the past year, I had been so occupied, with my schedule cramped like it had never been before. Ever since Lance came into my life, my publicity increased and I became busier and busier. I never really took a breather, because Lance never took a breather. He influenced me into working more and more... and he could handle it since it was practically his natural environment. I was starting to doubt if I could do the same. For fun, we would host Pokemon Daycare “parties” around Kanto and Johto. (Those “parties” were actually meetings where we lectured to little kids on the importance of caring for Pokemon. Sounds boring, I know.)

“I just feel like I'm wearing myself out more often,” I admitted, and sighed again. “I've always had the feeling that I am always busy and that I never have enough time... and it's not the good feeling either.”

“That's why the holiday vacation exists.” Steven's tone was a matter-of-factly, and he walked over to me, sitting on the other half of the piano bench. His eyes met mine when he spoke: “I've been living in isolation for six months now, so I realize that you probably lead quite the fancy life. But here, as of right now, you are away from the world. Stop building up your anxieties and just _play_. It makes you happy and content. If you want, you don't need to teach me.”

Time seemed to stand still for the both of us, and the sound of silence encased the space.

I broke the silence with a sigh, and then I half-chuckled with a smile. “Okay, Steven Stone. How do you want me to teach you?”

* * *

We ended up playing and teaching piano together for a long time, and we seemed to pass the entire day just with the instrument alone. Of course, we got up to do our housework, mainly feeding our Pokemon. Eventually, the gingerbread cookies were finished, and we shared them together as we took a break from piano. Then, we would go back and spend more time at the piano, leafing through different scores and demonstrating our playings to each other.

Steven made me realize that I hadn't experienced true happiness in a long time. For the first time in a long time, I felt my true self coming back into existence, as if it had almost died into oblivion previously, all because of Steven's optimistic nature. A couple of times, he had taken it a little too far by acting unnaturally happy, but it always ended up becoming some sort of act that was meant to make me laugh. And he succeeded. As much as I thought I would rebel in the growing relationship between us, I found myself generally at ease.

We had, as I thought now, become good friends. I expected a small part of myself to resent this fact, but there wasn't anything remotely antagonistic I felt about Steven. If I had any, it was truly gone by now.

I jumped again when an unfamiliar ringtone sounded from the kitchen. Steven indicated it was his phone, and excused himself to pick it up.

When he came back, he had a bizarrely displeased expression on his face. Steven handed the phone to me wordlessly, and I answered with a reluctant hello.

“Who was that?” Lance asked from the other end.

“Oh, it's Steven. Steven Stone. I'm staying at his house.”

“I thought you said you were going to Snowpoint?”

_...I thought I told him I could only make it to Aulighte Town._

Meanwhile, I heard a lot of noise in the background: loud Christmas music with someone singing in the background using a mic, and laughter and chitchat from people.

“My train crashed into the snow,” I explained again. “I ended up with Steven Stone since he was nice enough to let me stay at his place for the night—“

“Why did you get off?”

“Coordinators,” I replied. Here, Steven seemed to smirk, trying to suppress a laugh. I ignored him.

“Anyway, I met Steven again so I'm at his house right now. I fell into a frozen river on the way, but I'm okay now. Still—“

“Whoa. That sounds like a lot to deal with.”

Lance cut me off again, but it didn't matter. Finally, he was listening to me. Finally, he was listening to his girlfriend.

“There's more I'm sure,” Lance said, and then kept me waiting as someone else seemed to talk to him. He came back to the phone after some time. “Look, I'm about to start the Christmas Ball Dance. It ends in four hours, so I'll call you back then and you can tell me the whole story.”

I felt myself jerk back, taken from his abrupt dismissal. “Lance, did you hear me?”

I might have sounded like that annoying, nagging girlfriend, but it didn't matter. At this point, he was supposed to listen to me.

“Don't worry, I heard you. I'll definitely call back. The ball dance will be over in no time.”

And just like that, he hung up on the phone.

I sat there, stunned.

“That was quick,” Steven remarked, looking up from a music score.

“He got busy again,” I said sullenly.

“So he just hung up?”

“...Yeah.”

“That's stupid.”

“How is that stupid?”

“Cynthia.” Steven looked at me seriously now. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Your point?” I was grumbling now.

“I would be worried.”

“Worried?”

Steven pointed out to the window. By now, the sun was beginning to set, with occasional patches of clouds blotching the sky. One could make out the warm, faint colors of dusk.

“This storm, for example. You could be worried about the entire Sinnoh region, wondering if any power went out for anyone.”

“This house didn't lose any,” I retorted. “Besides, I was worried I couldn't make it to the Saffron Christmas Gala on time. Likewise, Lance was probably worried that I couldn't be there with him.”

“So it's still about that after all, isn't it? You meeting your boyfriend Lance for an annual event. That's all that matters to begin with.”

His comment on Lance was not welcome.

“You brought him into the discussion,” Steven said, knowing that I had flinched at his mentioning. Still, I had to admit his comment was accurate.

“I'm going to tell you something,” Steven continued.

“No.”

“He's going to break up with you.”

I felt as if I had been punched in the gut.

“I'm sorry I'm breaking it to you. It's just the truth. I'm trying to help you.”

I said nothing, knowing fully well that everything Steven had said was true. Lance was avoiding me like I was some dreaded, overdue bill to be paid. Except he always paid his bills, he was practically proud of being able to pay them on time. According to him, he had a perfect streak of paying them on time. I was the only thing in his life overdue. Popular, attractive, unimaginably famous Lance was pushing me away.

The truth hurt. Badly.

So I brought out my only weapon.

“You're not saying this because of Ellen, aren't you?” I attacked him. Aggressively.

Steven's head seemed to snap. His eyes turned hard, and he released a long sigh.

“So you do know. You saw what had happened.” Steven was doing the best he could do to remain calm.

I was still furious, so I simply glared at him.

“This has nothing to do with Ellen.”

“Sure.” My voice was sarcastically icy.

Steven stood up now, and he was very tall compared to where I was sitting. “Ellen has nothing to do with it. Do you want to know how I know what's going to happen?”

I refused to answer. He was going to continue talking anyway.

“First, it's Christmas, and he hasn't had a complete one-on-one conversation with you. He's avoiding you on Christmas. Who does that? People who are about to break up with other people. Why? Because they can't fully enjoy the holiday with the person they supposedly love. These are days where you're supposed to have fun with the ones you love, but when they avoid you, it's because they can't enjoy it with you.”

“He's the host of...”

“If I were the host of the goddamn Christmas party and I found out my girlfriend had crashed on a train, then found out her entire family was arrested _waiting for her_ , and was staying at a complete stranger's house, I'd cancel it. All of it. I'd demand someone else to be host because I'd be having my cellphone in hand the entire time waiting for her call. And even if I had to go back to be host, I'd be thinking for her safety every second I can get. I would do everything in my power to ensure her wellbeing. If she called, I would answer it on the first ring. I wouldn't let her wait for six or seven rings. That's outrageous.”

I was stunned. My voice seemed as though it were gone. Steven was right. What he said is what Lance should have done.

But he did not.

“Cynthia, for the love of Arceus, you fell into a frozen river and could have possibly died. You said so yourself, but I even heard him dismissing you. The second I hear that, I would have just abandoned the stupid party and meet my girlfriend to make sure she doesn't die of hypothermia. Maybe I sound reckless, but that's what I would do anyway. But who knows, maybe he really is busy. Maybe the idea of breaking up with you hasn't even occurred to him. You want my advice? You should dump his pathetic ass.”

Steven had finished at this point, all of his words a part of this turbulent maelstrom that seemed to exhaust and satisfy him all the while. He was breathing now, heavily, having made wild gestures with his body to emphasize his intensity.

I began feeling something wet come from my eyes. What he had said moved me deeply, and I had never heard anything more humbling and honest in the longest of times. Everything Steven had done, from genuinely spending time with me to looking out for me, I wish Lance had done. Everything he had said in his rant, I wish Lance had done.

But he did none of it.

I saw some look of conflict in Steven's face when I looked up. He appeared worried if he had caused any significant damage to me, as he was shifting back and forth against the wall he stood next to.

“I need some time.” My voice was dry, almost hoarse. “Where... can I go?”

“My room,” he offered, pointing up in the direction of the stairs. “First door to the right. It's a mess, but...”

I stood up, Steven's cellphone in hand, and went to his room.

 


	11. Chapter 11

When Steven said his room was messy, he wasn't joking. His room was the exact opposite of Lance's; where his was meticulous to the point it could be featured in a home magazine, Steven had various books, notebooks and rock samples scattered all across his desk and floor, even on his bed. It was the true setting of a restless, ever-curious learner. The only thing that seemed out of place was a framed picture of Steven and Ellen, standing upright on his desk.

I went over to his desk to take a closer look. Steven had his arm around Ellen's waist, and the two were both smiling at the camera. Both were especially photogenic, with wide, warming smiles. Ellen particularly was a real beauty; she embodied the epitome of the coordinator-diva, having waist-long, luscious auburn hair, with flawless skin and titillating curves. Her face glowed with makeup: thick, curly eyelashes, deep pink lipstick, and distinctly-shaped eyebrows. This girl was pretty, and she knew it.

With no chair in the room, I sat on Steven's bed instead, carefully moving aside some of his things. I could only stare at his cellphone in my hand for a while, thinking exactly what I was going to do next. Shifting my vision around slightly, I soon found myself looking outside the window; two petite starly chirped lightly and nestled together on a branch, shaking snow off of themselves.

I sighed once, dialing Lance's number on Steven's cellphone. When Lance picked up, I heard annoyance in his voice.

“Cynthia, I'm about to get up on the stage—“

“For the past twenty-four hours, my entire family was arrested and are now in jail. My train crashed in the middle of the snowstorm, and I fell into a freezing river. I've walked across an entire town in meter-thick snow, and now I'm stuck with someone I barely know. And you can't talk to me in spite of all this crap that I went through because, what, it's Christmas?”

Lance was quiet. I could sense the feeling of guilt and shame coming from the other line, and I was glad he felt it.

“Do you still want to go out with me?” I stormed on. “Be honest with me, Lance.”

He still didn't respond. I heard the sound of obnoxious music in the background, and more cheers. His silence made clear his feelings of doubt.

“Cynthia. This isn't the right time to talk about this.”

“Why?” I challenged.

“It's Christmas.”

“That's why I'm talking to you about it.”

“I don't need you to make a scene right now.” He was exasperated.

“You don't need me to make a scene?” I raised my voice, anger increasing. “I'm making a scene right now whether you like it or not because I'm breaking up with you.”

I almost didn't believe the words that came out of my mouth. They felt unbelievable in many ways, for it was all withdrawn from that space of darkness deep inside me, the unknown abyss that I always neglected. Yet now, it felt right. It felt true.

There was a long silence.

“Okay,” Lance said finally. I couldn't tell what his emotion was. It was plain, it was apathetic. There was no sign of tears or no sign of relief. It was empty.

“That's it?” My voice was shaking now.

“What do you mean, 'that's it'?”

“Nothing else?”

“Well, you're probably right. So if it's for the best, then that's how it is...”

“Merry Christmas.” I hung up, my entire body feeling adrenalized. I found myself shivering, and I cornered myself by wrapping my arms around my legs.

The entire house now was filled with a relaxed quiet; it was the result of previous screaming and quarrels.

I heard Steven walking up the stairway, coming up to his room. He opened the door to his room carefully. I didn't bother stopping him.

“Just wanted to check if you're okay.” His voice was soothing, gentle.

“Yeah.” I breathed. “I did it. I broke up with him. I called him, told him it was done.”

Steven came and sat down on the bed next to me to my right, but there was some space between us.

“I don't think he cared,” I went on.

“Assholes never care.”

We sat together in silence, and it felt comforting. My head was pounding.

“Ellen was like Lance,” Steven finally started. “Basically, she was perfect. Beautiful. Coordinator, as you know. Also modeled, sang, did a lot of other things. She even did charity work, if you can believe it. Volunteered at daycares and centers. Now I suspect it's more to make her simply look good, but I thought she meant the work she did was true from her heart at one point.”

“A real keeper,” I commented lamely.

“I never really understood why she went out with me. I was just a Champion. I had recently given the position of Official Hoenn Champion to Wallace. I expected to go do some soul-searching. Instead, this girl named Ellen Kirsten suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere. She showed interest in me. She flirted with me, and asked me to out, so I said yes. We dated for a little over a year, and we were really happy. At least, I was. The only thing was, she was busy. I could understand that, because I had just made myself a wandering trainer. But she got busier, and busier. It was difficult to track her at times. The press started knowing where she went when I had no clue. I mean, even the public fans, her manager, her friends, everyone seemed to know where Ellen was, but her own boyfriend was left in the dark. She got so busy, she couldn't stop by to see me even when I made the journey to visit her wherever she was currently at.”

This was all too painfully familiar.

“I started leaving her more voice messages and texts. Emails, even. I tried stopping by some of her apartments, but I ended up making a fool out of myself most of the time. I always left a message with the doorman, but it was as if she never got them. And then, one night...” Steven sighed. “We were supposed to go have dinner at _Le Voile_ at Hearthome, but she never arrived. I got worried, so I left the restaurant and started texting her. I ended up walking all around Hearthome, until I saw a bunch of photographers and journalists crowding around Starbucks, starting to go in. They were all shouting Ellen's name, so I shoved my way in there.”

Steven was fidgeting a lot right now. He shifted his weight from one side to the next, his facial muscles tensing.

“I almost thought I had made a mistake. But I knew I didn't. We had set a date for that night, and I had written it on my calendar, on my phone. It meant a lot to me. But I knew now that what I feared was coming true.”

He looked at me momentarily, his eyes apprehensive. I looked at him back in the eye, letting him know that I was listening.

“I was so relieved that she was okay. I thought for a moment that something happened to her, and that was why she couldn't make it to the dinner in the first place. But then, I also grew angry. How could she have not read all of the texts and emails I sent her, and the calls? I called her and left her voice messages. She must have gotten them. I was close to berating myself about how stupid I was probably acting too, because I thought I might have had done something on accident to hurt her. Anyway, I went inside. She wasn't anywhere out that I could see. The paparazzi at this point was creating chaos in the coffeeshop.”

Steven ran his hands through his hair, leaving it even messier than it was before. He looked even more irresistible at this point, and strangely enough, it eased me.

“Then, I was given some sympathetic looks from some of the people around me. I didn't quite understand what was happening, until I started hearing people say she was in the bathroom. With someone else.” He sighed. “She was in the bathroom for a really long time. And it was a single bathroom, only occupying one person at a time. I didn't initially believe she was with someone else, because who trusts the tabloids in the first place? But they were right. Because eventually, the paparazzi started storming in the bathroom. Ellen came out because of that. And so did Tyler.”

“...Tyler?”

“Tyler Johns. Another coordinator. Also popular in the contest world. Like the others, he has an entire fanbase after him. For a moment, I was trying to piece everything together... trying to figure out why Ellen was with Tyler in that bathroom. I didn't want to believe anything bad. But then, from the look of some people's faces, and the look on Ellen's face, I got it. The fact was... she was hiding from her boyfriend in the bathroom with another guy.”

I was absorbed in Steven's story, picturing him at the scene he had described. I remember the cover of the tabloid, that revolting cover, and Steven's expression. His pitiful expression.

“What did you do?” I asked quietly.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. I was wrecked, destroyed. But Ellen got furious with me.”

“...How?” I felt anger channel through me. It was unfair that she was mad at him.

“She was most likely scared that she'd been caught, and getting mad was probably the only way she could think of reacting. By blaming me, and calling me possessive and by declaring me a creepy stalker. She said I gave her too much trouble and pressure, and that it was all my fault. She made me sound like a total pervert in front of her, in front of the media. She even called me sex-addicted for her, and that I was too selfish. And I stood there, and my voice was lost, and all I wanted to say in my defense was, 'You were supposed to have dinner with me tonight. Instead, you're making out with another guy who's not your boyfriend at all. What am I doing wrong?' It probably looked like I was agreeing with her since I didn't defend myself, but I wasn't. I thought I was her boyfriend, in love with her, in love with her for more than a year. But no.”

Steven's hands were shaking at this point, his emotions spilling over his entire self.

“She ended up walking out of the place. And that was that. The media chased after her, obviously. And me. I ended up running away in the end. I became the Champion who was famously dumped by a coordinator. The past year... felt like a waste of my life. My parents begged me to come back to Hoenn, but I wouldn't listen. I wanted isolation. And I found it here, in this town that the world doesn't even give a second thought about.”

Steven sighed. “But that's not my point. My point is...” He pointed to his cellphone, placed to my left. “That guy is a dickhead. You're better than him. You deserve something more. And it's definitely not him.”

The memories of my past year had suddenly streamed through me in a second, and I felt myself tense up. I remembered Lance holding my hand as he dragged me through a red carpet, me being behind him while he was aggressively forward, liking the attention he got for simply having me behind him. Then, whenever he started talking, I never had anything to contribute, so I was silent. I remembered there were times where we watched sports games together merely because he was invited to go to them and make a huge commotion, and the commotion would double once I tagged along with him. I had nearly bored myself into oblivion because I never found anything remotely entertaining about sports. I was forced to stay there for the entire time, while Lance watched the game seriously as if it were his duty. He never cared if I was comfortable there. I remembered that we never really carried on a conversation, because it was always about the same things: I'm busy here and there, and I have to go to this place tomorrow for a dinner and fly over to that region after the dinner for a meeting. This is how busy I am. This is how I'm organizing my life. Look at us doing all of these “honorable” things. Look at how much of an over-achiever we're making ourselves. Look at us, leading busy and professional lives, each hour of days jam-packed with our affluent lifestyles. We're so important. _I'm so important._

My past year was meaningless. Meaningless work. I was dying, essentially, because I was doing nothing that made me alive. I hadn't even progressed remotely on my research on ancient Sinnoh. I hadn't talked about myself at all. I hadn't played the piano, even, and Steven had encouraged me to play again, to talk about myself... Steven paid attention to me, because he must have known I was rotting myself away to an empty oblivion... I was being objectified by Lance, and Steven made me recognize my own self-worth that was deteriorating away the more I had spent time with Lance. Despite the fact that we had barely even known each other, Steven was already intimate with me, embarrassingly, and he treated me with the respect and care that I had needed to live again... He had saved me from death.

I felt tears build up.

At this, Steven opened his arms a little wider, inviting me in them to help pull myself together. Sometime during the entire conversation, we moved closer to each other as we had sat, and we were aware a kind of bated energy had increased the entire time. I knew I was going to start crying, but I grew angry at the same time. Lance didn't deserve any of my tears. I didn't need to be so emotionally invested over everything that had happened between me and him. There was nothing between us the entire time, and I didn't need to cry. I wasn't going to cry at all.

So I kissed Steven.

I kissed Steven, with more force than I had anticipated. I ended up pushing him backwards on his bed, wrapping my own arms around him. He kissed me back, initially surprised as he placed his arms around me, but then responding back with the same energy I had. It was a good kiss, one that had the right balance of dryness and wetness, even though it was feverish. It was unexpected for the both of us, so we were probably thinking, _Wait! S/he's kissing me! So, I think this is how you kiss... Yeah, your tongue needs to do this, and then you need to move more! Hurry! More!_ More!

We let go after some time, gathering our time to pull ourselves together. Everything in the midst felt like a dream; we kissed again, though this time, it was slower, and more gentle.

A huge bark came from downstairs. Aron was barking at the foyer for some reason, jumping and running around excitedly in circles from what I could hear.

And then the doorbell rang.

Neither of us moved. I was still on top of Steven, pressing him down while my face was inches away from his.

“Sorry,” I said suddenly, my voice jittering. I released him, and Steven jumped up.

“I have to check who's at the door,” Steven said, but his eyes were still on me. “Okay? Are you alright? If there's anything you need—“

“I'm great!” I practically yelled in a pathetic attempt to make myself appear normal. How much of a crazy lady did I sound right now?

He nodded, shuddering, and then darted out of the room.

 


	12. Chapter 12

It was amazing to see how quickly I had dumped my previously “perfect” boyfriend to make out with a new guy. This all happened within a half hour of each other. Give or take. Never did I think I could get another guy as quickly as thirty minutes after breaking up with my boyfriend. I only noticed this after I had glanced to see what time it was.

Outside, twilight had fallen, its indigo color taking over the last of the setting sun. Downstairs, I heard Steven making a rather boisterous conversation with someone else. The other person's voice was bellowing and jolly, checking to make sure Steven was okay and that the house was okay from the blizzard that hit it. He was probably someone actually from Aulighte, I concluded, who had walked all the way to the edge of the wilderness to visit Steven.

I hid for the remaining time up in Steven's room, waiting for the discussion to be over. I'd come downstairs afterward, and face the reality between us; I knew I couldn't stay away from him forever. So I sat there on the floor near the doorway, listening closely. Eventually, I heard that the visitor needed Steven's help along with his pokemon, and naturally, he agreed. The sound of a closet opened, along with some rustles, and soon, Steven had left the house with the door closed.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself, feeling panicked. “What am I going to do now? Steven's going to be gone for a while, and now, I'm all alone..!”

I left Steven's room as quietly as I could, trying to keep myself calm. In the living room, Aron was sniffing around at the mess we had made. Beldum floated along, staring out the window as it saw its master walk away. When I arrived, the both of them looked toward me. I flinched, wondering if I had done something that offended them.

Instead, both of them were exceedingly happy to see me again. Aron bounced around my feet, eventually rubbing its head against my ankles while Beldum rubbed against me gleefully.

Even the pokemon knew what I had done. With their master.

Oh my Arceus.

I tried nudging them away, but they were insistent on sticking around me. It was as if they wanted me to stay there forever, to keep me there and make me Steven's... bride-to-be.

They were treating me as if I owned them and that I was their mistress to the master!

I sighed as I crashed back onto the sofa, wallowing in my misery and shame and embarrassment as the two continued to dance jovially around me.

“Oh my Arceus...” I buried my face in my hands.

Steven was just getting away from me, of course. It only made sense; I would have done the same thing. There was nothing irrational about avoiding each other now because of what I had done a few minutes before. Everything I had done previously now clumped together in my mind as an entire collection of stupidity and senselessness. I was a preposterous woman and I knew it. Best to go away to help someone else so she could gather some time to get away herself.

Wait.

That was it.

That was what I had to do next.

All I had to do was get out of this house, get out of Steven's life to gain some control of my non-existent dignity! I'd go out and find my train, which was probably leaving town soon in the first place.

I jumped up suddenly from the couch, surprising the two pokemon. I ran for the laundry room, threw off what I was wearing and quickly put on my newly-dried clothes from yesterday. I knew I wouldn't be able to drag my entire duffle this time, so I abandoned it in the living room, grabbing my essentials and stuffing them in my travel bag. I'd come back another time, and Steven would hold my things for me so I could pick them up, obviously. He wouldn't mind at all! Besides, it would be easy to locate where he lived; I'd get back to Aulighte Town and find my way around to get back to his place. No problem at all.

As I headed for the back door, both Aron and Beldum made sounds of confusion and sadness; they knew fully well of my intention to leave. I would have pitied them, but I was selfish and I wanted to make sure I wouldn't lose the day before it ended. It took some time to force the door open, as the snow had glued the back door shut. It took an equal amount of effort just to close it. I nearly scared myself with the thought that I was pushing open the back door with so much power that I'd end up breaking the damn thing. I could imagine Steven coming home only to find his back door ripped off because someone ludicrous like me had accepted his hospitality, only to be ditched in the end by running away and leaving her stuff behind.

When I shut the door from the outside outside, the two pokemon were giving me those sad, puppy eyes; they were begging me to stay. I resisted the urge not to look back at them as I reached for my phone. It struggled as I tried turning it on back to life, and this time, it seemed even more messed up than it was yesterday: the entire screen was a digital, blotchy jumble. At least there was some life in this thing.

The snow outside had hardened officially from the cold, some places of snow as solid as ice. Ordinarily, I might have complained, but now, I didn't mind. I threw my entire body into the snow, taking one large stride after another, energized by my panic and emotions. In the midst of my craziness, I thought of how I could get back to the train; I wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea of taking the same direction I had come from with Steven, because there was no way I was going to take another unintended dive in that frozen river. I didn't think I could take the same path anyway — all of our tracks had been covered by the snow.

I kept walking and walking through the thick snow, with bare forest trees surrounding me. The only thing I knew without any doubts was the general direction of the stream we had fallen in last night, and I was doing my best to avoid it. I assumed that I'd find another way back to Aulighte, weaving my way through the identical-looking trees in this uninhabited hinterland. From Aulighte, it would be far easier to find my direction to the train, and I'd get back on without any more difficulties!

… Yeah, as if that would work out as smoothly and brilliantly as it sounded.

I had drifted further and further into the forest, and every step I took, it seemed to become more disordered and anarchic in nature's design. It was an alarming contrast to the simple, straightforward plan I had in my mind to escape Steven and his house. At this point, this entire timberland felt like some loony spinda trying to doom me into some perpetual labyrinth of bewilderment and hysteria, as if I were the enemy. My sense of direction grew so terribly that I couldn't even distinguish right from left, north from south. I saw no lights of human civilization from any course, and everything in my vision grew bleak and grim. The clouds had begun covering up the sky again, threatening to cover the only light source, the moon, and leaving me out in the dark.

As I continued to drag myself through the snow, my thoughts became concentrated on my recent life, my recent, meager social life. How was I going to explain the breakup to my family? They liked Lance, especially knowing that he was a Dragon-Type Master. When I first introduced him to them, I almost sensed an intention that they were ready to marry me off to him solely because he was a Dragon Master. They were proud that I had an impressive and influential boyfriend. Well, everyone but my little sister. My little sister never liked him. At all. (One time, he was over my grandmother's house in Celestic, and she wasn't afraid to call him a blockhead _and_ a dummy in front of his face during dinnertime. Talk about fangirls.)

 _It doesn't matter anymore_. I thought firmly. _Lance was a goddamn asshole. He caused me too much trouble. I'm happier this way, and my family_ _cares more for me_ _and my happiness_ _than that dick._

As for the media... Well, they'd find out eventually that we weren't a thing anymore. While I was glad I was away from the world, and that no one else had witnessed me breaking up with Lance except for Steven, the news would get out eventually. Maybe Lance would publicize it somehow. If he did, I wouldn't care. I'd be returning back to my old life of researching about ancient Sinnoh religion, myths, civilization and culture, buried in my old studio of books and artifacts, and surround myself in all the classical music I wanted. All of the fame and publicity and perks to being his girlfriend — I was finally relieved I wouldn't have to bear those unnecessary burdens. Take it. Take it all away from me. All of it was worthless.

And then there was Steven, of course.

Steven, who had just seen me go through an entire spectrum of emotions and experiences. He had seen me when my mom told me that the family was arrested, seen me stuck in the middle of nowhere, seen me when I was angry and shouting at the top of my lungs, seen me when I was trying to escape the masses of fangirls and fanboys, seen me after I had finished crying my eyes out after breaking up with Lance, seen me after I had given him that kiss, that stupid kiss... I had practically given him what seemed like almost a lifetime of sentiments and memories.

All Steven had done was rescue me. He had genuinely cared for me, set my true priorities in order and helped me face the truth that hurt.

I became aware that I had let my stupidity take hold of me at this point. I had screwed this up very, very badly, and it sank to a new level of stupidity once I had ran away. By now, the cold and the snow didn't matter. It was all nothing compared to the regret and humiliation that I felt. All of the dry coldness and frosty snow sinking into my body was insignificant. And, I was lost in a forest. I was lost in my own native region. Smart.

The despair really hit me when I finally came across a distant strip of shining lights. It must have been Aulighte Town, I realized. I had wandered far enough to find this little town again. But now, the effort to go back to the train wasn't worth anything. I felt the tears about to flow from my eyes, and I was ready to land in the snow on my knees.

That's when I heard Steven's voice from behind me.

“Cynthia, wait.”

I stopped, reluctant and half-unable to turn around him. I had the urge to resist looking at him, to face my own embarrassment. But as I had had enough of everything, I turned around with a surrendering look of defeat.

Running away is something idiots do in the first place. When you get caught, the shame of the idiot is even more hilarious. Hah.

“Funny seeing you here, isn't it?” I half-laughed pathetically. “Er...”

Steven didn't laugh. My ridiculous attempt at being funny was not very funny.

“Sorry.” I dropped my act. “I thought I should have gotten back to the train by now and—“

“Yeah. I figured.” Steven cut me off quietly.

A silence hung between us. And then:

“I followed your footsteps,” Steven said, knowing that I was wondering how he had found me. “The snow makes it easy.”

I felt dumb.

“Sorry I made you go through all that. The snow and everything.”

“It didn't take that much effort. I was coming back from Aulighte, actually. They said someone was trapped in the snow. I helped them out and I was on my way back home... until I saw footsteps, and then I saw you in the distance.”

Now I felt _really_ dumb.

Steven sighed, amazed at how preposterous and nonsensical I was. “If you're going to go back, at least let me walk you there.”

“I'll be fine,” I tried insisting. “Really.”

“Are you sure?”

I merely dipped my head down in a half-nod, wanting to say something; I couldn't find anything to say. He must have read my gesture as meaning that I wanted him to go away; he tilted his head towards the side and looked hesitantly accepting of the situation.

There was another silence between us.

“Stay safe, okay? And, can you let me know when you've made it there? Call or—“

My phone interrupted Steven from my bag. It was horribly screwed up from the night before, because it made an eerily-warped, screechy ringtone that sounded like a chatot imitating the screams of several bratty kids.

I checked my phone. It was Lance. On my digitally-distorted screen, it read “Ibnae.” Even so, I knew it was him.

I stared at it. Steven stared at it. The ringing stopped, and then it started again. He wasn't going to give up easily.

“I'm sorry if I was stupid,” Steven began, speaking up over the cranky sound. “I know the apology won't do any good, but still.”

“What do you mean stupid?” I asked.

Steven couldn't seem to answer that. The ringing stopped once again, and then it started for the third time. Ibnae really wanted to talk to me.

“I said to Ellen I would wait,” Steven said, looking down to the snow. “I told her I'd wait for however long it would take. She told me not to, because I was nothing to her at that point. But I tried not to find anyone else. I was stubborn for a long time.”

“But then, I saw you. From outside the window.” Steven was looking at me now, bravely, I might add. “And I knew instantly you were going through the same thing I had gone through from the expression that was on your face. You and the phone in your hand and that supposedly perfect boyfriend of yours. It wasn't difficult to see that. From the start, I wanted to help, help you get out of that and help you avoid the pain. I might have gone too far, too crazy because you know, look where we are now. But it seems like he's realized his mistake.”

He acknowledged the phone in my hand, which was ringing once again.

“I'm still really grateful, really thankful that you came. That I saw you again and got to know you better,” Steven added. “Just don't give in to that asshole, okay? That's the only thing I ask of you. Don't sell yourself away to that douchebag. You're amazing, and he does nothing but drain you away. He's not worth any more of your time.”

The phone continued to ring, and ring, and ring. I looked at the screen one last time, then at Steven.

I smiled, feeling tears of joy starting to build around my eyes. With all the energy I could muster, I threw my phone as far as I could, and it disappeared into the snow.

“I accidentally lost my phone. Oops.”

Steven stood there, astounded momentarily. Then, he laughed as he stepped forward, lifting my chin to kiss me.

Steven kissed me, he kissed me and kissed me. And I didn't care about anything else in the world, I didn't care about the snow or the cold or the fact that it had started snowing once again.

“You truly are a work of art,” Steven said with a chuckle after we had released each other. He put an arm around me as I leaned my head onto his shoulder. “You and your antics.”

“I'm preposterous and I know it. Deal with it.”

From the far distance, we heard the sound of a large machine come from Aulighte Town. We simultaneously turned around, finding Plastic Bag Man inside what was a two-story snowplowing contraption. He was honking at a bunch of screaming, delighted kids all playing in the snow with several pokemon. We laughed, turning back towards the direction of Steven's house.

“Do you want to go back the long way? Or the same way as last night? You're probably freezing.”

“Let's take the long way.”

“We're gonna end up winding all around the river to avoid it.”

“Doesn't matter. The long way sounds better, for sure.”

 


	13. Epilogue

  
  


Whatever more could one possibly add to make this story even more romantic and sappier than this? A snowstorm of the century on Christmas Eve, getting trapped alone with a charming stranger before realizing that you’re in love with him, perhaps out of your will before you accept the situation, and drama. A lot of drama. Unintended, too, I should add. After all, you were probably thinking when I broke up with Lance, “Oh my Arceus! Holy Mother of Mew! I can’t believe she finally dumped him! It was about time!” Or when Steven was explaining his own woeful story to me about the breakup with his ex, “Poor Steven! He didn’t deserve any of that cruelty! She’s a bratty, spoiled skank!” (Yes, there are worse insults, but as someone who prefers to carry around the air of maturity like a Master Champion should carry, I refuse to use them.) Oh, and when Steven and I finally became an item. I bet at least one of you fell off your chairs screaming to the heavens when we finally kissed. Admit it. You must have been crying your eyes out because I shoved myself on top of Steven to kiss him. All of the magnificence aside, this little snowstorm that ruined my initial Christmas plans turned out to go spectacularly beyond my holiday vacation expectations.

My dear friends, it is here where my wonderfully, miserably sentimental Christmas story comes to a regretful close: Steven and I merrily trudged through the heavy snow back to his home, the frosty air playfully nipping our faces while tiny, crystalline snowflakes gracefully fell from the sky above. We walked further into the bare forest, occasionally seeing glimpses of the pale moonlight peeking through the modest cracks of the clouds, making the snow sparkle with ethereal effervescence.

It was, indeed, one magical Christmas story.

* * *

One couldn’t tell what time it was. It was difficult to guess: gray clouds overlaid the sky, allowing only intermittent, open spaces for the frail, celestial moonlight to caress the snow-covered earth below. Everything in this wintry landscape embraced a transcendental wonder and radiance; with the tender flutters of wind periodically twirling around the sparkling snowflakes, it felt as though stardust, from the remains of a luminous supernova, had descended to the evanescent world below, to bless the living and grant them what felt like an eternity of enchantment.

Strolling along this marvelous night were Cynthia and Steven, content in the silence of each other. The translucent snowflakes sprinkled their hair and coats, and they walked arm in arm.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have taken the long way back,” Cynthia started, audibly chilly. “I might have let my stupidity get the better of me… again.”

Steven laughed. There were absolutely endless surprises in this woman. The entire past day and a half had been one hell of a thrilling drama, and Cynthia gave Steven what seemed to be a lifetime of remembrances and passions. In a single day encompassing twenty-four hours, Cynthia’s original holiday plans had been superbly ruined, setting off a domino effect of unfortunate events. They included a jailed family, a freezing, accidental dip in a river, and a long overdue break-up with that douchey ex-boyfriend of hers, Lance.

“I don’t even know how long we’ve been walking at this point. I did say that we’d have to end up winding around the river.” Steven quickly surveyed the area around them, attempting to estimate how much distance was left to get back to his home.

Cynthia smiled, a hint of mischief curling at the top of her lip. “Unless you want to cross the frozen river again.”

“If we do, you had better promise you won’t make us fall in it. Last night was terrible.”

Cynthia giggled. “Oh, come on. More snow has fallen down at this point. I’m sure the ice has hardened enough so that it’s safe to even ice-skate on it. After all, it was still snowing yesterday when we went back to your home. The ice was thin then. I assume now it’s sturdier.” Here, Cynthia sighed. “Besides, you were the one who provoked me into making the ice break. Us falling into the river last night was _your_ fault.”

“My fault? You shouldn’t have taken the bait!”

“Honestly, Steven. Is it really me to blame? I was the victim being treated unfairly here.”

“Oh, were you?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I was the one crying my eyes away because that stupid asshat named Lance wrecked my damn life!”

“We should throw another pity party for _just for you_. Of course, you’ll be the star, and I’ll be the delighted host.”

Cynthia lightly shoved him with a laugh. “You… _sadist_. You love seeing me in pain and agony. It’s like you can never get enough of it.”

“You’re right. I am a sadist. In particular, I’m _your_ sadist.”

The blonde looked at Steven, her eyes reading exuberant disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Oh, you’d better believe it.” Steven laughed, pulling Cynthia in momentarily to place a kiss on her forehead.

“As much as I love your kisses,” Cynthia said after they had pulled away, “let’s move on. I’m _freezing_. I’m pretty sure they said the temperature would drop below zero for the night. Arceus knows how cold it is right now.”

Steven smiled. “Actually, there’s one more thing I want to show you. But we have to finish winding all around the river.”

Her curious eyes met his. “What in the world could that possibly be?”

“It’s a stunning work of nature. You won’t regret seeing it.”

“That’s certainly vague.”

“Trust me. You'll love it.”

* * *

They continued walking along the winter night, the gentle snowflakes eventually subsiding away as well as the clouds, all floating away to reveal a luminescent, crescent moon. Up above in the sky, a myriad of stars glimmered in the far distance of the universe, the expanded silhouette of the Milky Way galaxy shining across the whole welkin.

“We're nearly there,” Steven began, starting to feel excited. He pointed a finger along a faint glimmer of what appeared to be iced light.

Cynthia felt her heart beginning to pound. She couldn't make out clearly what it was, but she was given the feeling it would be empyreal, something that would exceed perhaps her imagination in the longest of times.

Steven continued to encourage Cynthia, helping her along in the meter-thick snow. She had some difficulty in continuing to walk in the snow, as its bulky weight was becoming increasingly more of a wearisome challenge.

“I don't know how crazy we are to be doing this,” Cynthia said as she took another stride in the snow. “Don't you think we actually might end up killing ourselves over this?”

Steven showed no sign of pessimism. “Don't worry, we're closer than you think we are.”

“I hope so.” Cynthia took in a deep breath of cold air. “This is making me exhausted.”

The silver-haired man was enthusiastic, temporarily leaning down with the blonde, who kept her gaze solely on the snow below her. “Do you want to look up now?”

“What?”

Steven assisted Cynthia in standing up straight, and the sight before them was unquestionably breathtaking.

Only a short length away, there lay a frozen lake completely condensed and congealed in glittering ice. It mirrored the twinkling sky above, with the moon's sublime, gleaming rays of light illuminating the entire view. Tall, bare trees towered around lake, casting shadows against the snow and the ice, while the snow glinted thousands of fragmented rainbows into the air.

“I knew it would be gorgeous,” Steven breathed.

Cynthia was simply stunned speechless. “... You were right. This is... _phenomenal_.”

There was a moment of shared, tranquil silence. Then:

“I'm well aware that Sinnoh is your home region,” Steven said, wrapping his arm around Cynthia's waist. “But here specifically, in this hinterland where humans barely tread into, lies one of the region's greatest hidden beauties. I had known that during the wintertime, especially with the snow, it would be something worth seeing.”

“... I could cry from this.” Cynthia's voice was quiet.

Steven smiled. “I almost expected a retort from you saying something like how you had seen it plenty of times before. I was almost afraid you wouldn't find it as beautiful.”

“I have seen frozen lakes in the middle of winter at nighttime before, especially in Sinnoh,” Cynthia admitted. Then, she turned to Steven, her eyes warm. “Though, it's only more magical now because _you're_ here with me. Or rather, we're sharing the moment together.”

Steven sighed, touched by her words. “Only with you would I be able to share this with,” he murmured.

Cynthia smiled, merely leaning her head against his shoulder.

Another moment of shared, peaceful silence hung between them.

Soon after, Steven began: “Okay, now it's probably a good idea to actually head back. I just realized how cold I am.”

“Agreed,” was Cynthia's hearty reply.

As Steven started walking, with an unintentionally comical clumsiness, he made an oversized stride, sending him face-first into the snow. From behind, Cynthia's delightfully charming laughter rang out; her hands covered her chest as she strained to control her laugh.

Steven tried his best to stand up from the snow, but only ended up flipping himself to the front instead. He was visibly embarrassed and annoyed. “Jeez, at least help me up!”

“I'm sorry!” Cynthia was wiping her face with a hand, still doubling up with laughter. “I can't believe that just happened to you! You _literally tripped in snow!_ And now you can't get up! I thought _I_ was the one having trouble walking through snow earlier!”

“For crying out loud, the snow is _one_ _meter thick_! Now help me up!”

“Okay, okay!” Cynthia extended a hand, giggles escaping from her rosy face.

Steven took her hand, and then pulled her into the snow with him. Cynthia screamed, landing squarely on top of him as his arms enveloped over her.

“I'm doing this just so you know how I feel,” Steven complained, trapping her from getting back up.

“Great, so this is my punishment?” Cynthia remarked with another giggle, her head against his chest. “You really are a sadist.”

Steven laughed. “Like I said, I'm your sadist. Now we should really get up. We're gonna catch hypothermia if we don't start sooner.”

The blonde sighed, doing her best to stand up first. “A friendly reminder we have to feed all of our Pokemon dinner as well.”

“Good call,” Steven said as Cynthia helped pull him up.

The two went arm in arm once more, stepping in the snow as they began their way around the lake. Very soon, the both intuitively knew, they would make it back to Steven's house, where warmth and comfort and slumber awaited them.

 


End file.
